


A Rush of Blood To the Head

by Casstea



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M, Magical Realism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-19
Updated: 2013-08-19
Packaged: 2017-12-23 09:39:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/924817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Casstea/pseuds/Casstea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Humans are not as alone in the universe. There are other realms, other races which coexist on earth, hidden in the few shadows which humanity has not touched.</p><p>The Faey are such a race. Known as the Guardians of the Earth, their job is to protect the Earth and cultivate it - like gardeners. Every thirty human years, a Faey is chosen by Fate to have their Rage awoken. They are given a target, a human, to hunt down and kill to gain their ather becoming one of the chosen raised to be a Guardian of the Earth. There is great honour to be chosen by Fate to travel into the human realm, an honour which is not lightly thrown away.</p><p>Q is chosen to travel into the human world, where he waits for the one Fate has chosen to kill to appear. Yet his target is not as he expected, and soon Q finds himself not wishing to kill his charge, a small boy named James Bond.</p><p>However, Fate does not like to be ignored.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N** : There are many people who have helped in the creation of this fic, and I need to thank them all for their awesomeness.
> 
> Firstly, my beta **Karen** , who made sure all my commas were in the right place and everything made sense. Also special thank you for running this entire bb! :) Secondly, to my wonderful artists **Helle** and **Rum**. I could not have asked for more beautiful artwork - thank you guys for offering your talent and thank you for arting for me! 
> 
> Helle: [Art Tag](http://gundamuubitch.tumblr.com/tagged/movingpaintedpictures)/[ _Mix Post_](http://gundamuubitch.tumblr.com/post/58705864932/my-beginning-and-my-end-for-the-one-who-fought)
> 
> Rum: [Art](http://rerumfragmenta.tumblr.com/post/58714574420/try-not-to-run-into-things-too-fast-q-said)
> 
> Thirdly a special thank yous have to go to **Kelli** for making a beautiful podcast of this story, and to **Play** and **Entangled** for making me stop watch SPN and doing word wars instead! Viva the Pineapple Revolution! 
> 
> And finally, to those who have commented and kudosed all my 00Q fic during my time in the fandom. It’s only with you guys that I keep typing out the words. So thank you, thank you from the bottom of my heart.
> 
> Right - now onto the fic! May you enjoy this creation and please leave a comment or kudos if you wish!
> 
>  **Disclaimer** : I don’t own James Bond, this is written for fun and not for profit. The title of this fic comes from the Coldplay album of the same name. Some scenes and lines are lifted straight out of either Casino Royale or Skyfall, to which I claim no ownership.
> 
> Any remaining mistakes are my own.

The creature who called himself Q stirred his tea in a non-descript coffee shop in London, watching the rain clatter against the windowpane of the shop. Condensation formed on the inside of the window, revealing a small smiley face which the previous occupant of Q’s table had drawn as if the symbol would invoke an emotion of happiness upon the next viewer.

 _Well,_ Q thought, taking another sip of his tea, _I’ve only ever been in my Homeworld until now. Humans would be simple compared to the Faey._

Q winced as the tea burnt his tongue. He still wasn’t used to this Skin, it had a far more sensitive taste sense than the previous one he had worn. However, it was good to be out of that previous Skin, it had been the first one he acquired in the human realm and it had been a poor fit.

Q placed the teacup back on the saucer, old bones of his Skin creaking with the effort.

 _A younger Skin next time would be an advantage,_ Q thought irritably, _one more athletic, especially for chasing humans._

However, Q was no fool. Whilst it slowed him down, the aged Skin allowed him to be invisible to the humans. After all, he needed to be invisible to hunt for the one Fate had chosen for him to kill, it wouldn’t do for his human to run off before Q could harvest it’s _ather_ for his own. Without the _ather_ he would not be able to connect to the Earth, and become one of the Guardians. It was a position for only a chosen few, and Fate had chosen Q.

He certainly wasn’t going to give up his one moment of glory over a mere human running away from him.

The door to the café opened, the small bell above the doorframe _clanging_ loudly and catching Q’s attention. A small family of three shuffled into the café, the mother shaking the very wet umbrella on the mat, holding her child with her other hand. Tucking the umbrella under her arm, she ushered her child in front of her, who seemed more interest in the lollipop in his mouth than the chiding words from his mother.

Q twisted his fingers around the handle of his mug. The Rage curled up inside him, the unspoken fury of the Faey race which drove his mind past conscious thought and into a frenzy of blood. Only those chosen to come to the Human realm had the Rage awakened within them, an honour that seemed like a double edged sword. Once, Q had dreamed of having his Rage awoken in the gilded halls of Queen Penelope, now he wasn’t so sure. He might have mastered his control over the Rage, after all he would have been able to survive for longer than a few days in the human realm without it, but it still felt more like a sickness than a gift, eating away at Q’s mind until he killed the human Fate had chosen for him.

Three months in the human realm.  Q was pretty sure that it was the longest time a Faey had lasted outside the Homeworld.

 _I’ve waited long enough to come here,_ Q thought darkly. He had always wanted to be different, and never wanting to do what he was _supposed_ to do. Whilst the other Faey were locked in their fights and anger, Q had wondered about the other races that existed in the universe, the Elves, Dragons and all manners of wondrous celestial beings. He had spent his first few days in the human just _admiring_ how the humans’ bodies were able to cope with the drastic changes in mood they went through. Q had always thought his mind had been much stronger than his body, and finally _now_ he was able to use it when analysing the small movements that marked a member of the human race. It was the small touches that made using a Skin a proper diversion, and Q was an expert in learning the small touches to a disguise.

"ZOOM!"

The blond child who had entered the cafe mere moments before came careering in Q's direction, his small feet were back peddling furiously. However, much to Q's amusement, the smooth floor did not provide the child with much grip, sending him head over heels and straight into Q’s table.

At which point the child promptly started crying.

The Rage filled Q in an instant. He bolted to his feet, throwing the tea over the white table cloth which stained the pure white to an ugly brown colour. Sucking in each breath, Q fought to regain his control over the Rage, steadying his shaking hands as he placed the cup back onto the saucer again.

Silence fell over the café, punctuated with the occasional wail of the human child at his feet. Q ignored the stares from the other customers, focussing totally on trying to control the Rage. It coursed through him, making his head spin and almost making him vomit his food over the table.

Q barely managed to a smile as the boy’s mother, a slight woman with a hint of an accent Q had not heard among the humans he had been around the past few days, rushed over and apologised profusely. It wouldn’t do him any good to simply kill the child in full view of an entire cafe. Discretion was advised greatly, the existence of the Faey was to be kept secret all cost. The names of those who had tried to do otherwise had been drilled into Q’s mind since birth, a warning of those who had failed the gift of the Rage.

Their bodies had been returned by the Witches, who had been disgusted at being forced to clear up the Faey’s mess.

“James,” the mother said to her child, as Q regulated his breathing, “apologise,”

The boy, James, stuck out his bottom lip in a way only a child could manage, looking up at Q with his big blue eyes. Q clenched his jaw tightly, trying to retain the force which was screaming through his body to lash out and kill the child.

“Sorry,” the boy muttered despondently.

 _This_ _child?_ Q questioned Fate, anger flaring along with the Rage, _you chose this child for me to kill?_

James whimpered quietly as he expected Q to give him an outburst for hitting his table. Q struggled to produce a faint smile, a growing determination to refuse to be controlled. There was a certain brightness in the child’s eyes that he deserved to keep, at least for now.

 “Try not to run into things too fast,” Q said, handing James one of the biscuits which had come with his cup of tea. James took the proffered biscuit with a shaking hand.

“What do you say?” James’ mother asked the boy.

“Thank you,” James mumbled, sticking the biscuit into his mouth. James’ mother looked at Q with a thankful expression.

“It’s fine,” Q mumbled, before the mother could throw any more thanks onto him, “he’s only little,”

  


The mother smiled, steering James away from Q’s table, must to his relief. He sat down heavily, taking one of the paper napkins from the corner of the table and mopping up the spill to keep his hands busy. The paper disintegrated in his hand on contact with the liquid.

For all their technological advances, humans seemed to fail at being able to create an adequate absorption material.

Q looked over to James who was quietly sitting with his parents eating the biscuit Q had given him, shoulders hunched over in sadness. That small human was the one Q had to kill to gain his _ather._

Q gestured to one of the passing human waitresses to fetch his bill. His money was running out; the first Skin he had stolen had been rich but not enough to fund all his exploits. He would need to get some money somehow, as he was going to be in the human world for far longer than intended.

Long enough until James was of an age to kill.

The waitress brought the bill over, and Q handed over the requisite amount of money. He had been schooled in the basics of human interactions before had come, lest he reveal to the humans he was not of their kind. Fate might choose his victim for him, but Q was dammed if he was going to kill a child.

 _I’m growing too soft,_ Q thought, wincing as his back twinged in pain as he stood up, _and I’ve only been in this realm for a few months. What will happen to me if I stay longer?_

Q grabbed his walking stick from the side of the table, clutching the polished wood like a lifeline.

He needed a walk.

x-x-x

Humans segmented their time into tiny digits, as if they were trying to add value to their short lives by defining each passing moment.

Time, Q found, didn’t define him anymore.

It merely showed him how long he had left.

Ticking down until he had to kill James.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

x-x-x

Q breathed out heavily, fighting the urge to move his shoulders to get the Skin to fit better. It still felt a little tight, like a jacket that didn’t quite fit across the shoulders. The prickly heather stuck into his stomach where he lay, shrouding him in a dull purple colour.

One week ago, he had found out about the death of James’ parents.

His hand had been forced, and he couldn’t give up this perfect opportunity to get another look at his prey. The boy was still too young to kill, but it wouldn’t hurt to know a little more about James as he grew up. It wasn’t stalking, just keeping tabs on his prey. After all, Q figured he didn’t want James running off out of his reach. He wanted that boy’s _ather_ for his own.

Scotland was bleak, although full of a silent beauty. The landscape made Q feel small, as if the grand sweeping lines of the mountains and hills placed his meagre existence into perspective. The sky fitted the sombre mood of the occasion, as if it too was mourning the passing of James’ parents. Q had watched the diggers struggling with the tough, frozen ground, to prepare the graves before the funeral started. Why on earth the humans considered it right to sacrifice their dead to the Mother Earth in this way still bemused Q, but then humans were a quaint race. They should be allowed their eccentricities on occasion.

Q picked up the binoculars hanging around his neck, pulling them level with his eyes. The open ground had forced him to hide in the fern and mossy slopes which bordered the valley where James’ house was situation. The binoculars were a clever human invention Q had to admit, as his Faey sight would not be able to pick out the details of the mourning party from this distance.

The doors to the church slowly opened. Q’s fingers twisted the dials on the binoculars, focussing on the emerging mourning party, looking for the small blond mop of hair. Q assumed the outside section of the humans’ procession would be short to account for the cold. An emotionless ending for a cold day, it was all rather fitting really. The Rage was quieter today, a gentle murmur instead of the red hot acid it usually was, as if it too recognised the sombre mood of the valley. Q could still feel the echo of it though, a gentle warm glow in the back of his mind.

Twisting the dials again, Q spotted the top of James’ small head peek out from the mass of people who swarmed around the coffins. He wore a suit that looked a few sizes too big, the clothing caught around his ankles as he was ushered next to the side of his parent’s graves. It was frustrating how poorly the humans reacted to death, as if they had never considered the concept existed until their own small lives were teetering on the abyss of that same black void.

A bird perched higher in the hills let out a sharp cry across the otherwise silent valley.

Q’s breath misted the front of the binoculars, yet his gaze was not taken off the mourners. His knowledge about the complexities of human society grew by the day, and yet they still puzzled him greatly. Why was it, that some of the humans were openly crying whereas others were not? Surely if they all were experiencing the same emotion, grief, they should be expressing it in the same way. Q would have loved to have been closer to analyse the individual reactions.

James, to his credit, stood stoically next to the adults as the coffins were lowered in to the ground. It was clear from the stiff stance James wore that the childlike glee which Q had seen years before had been quickly and efficiently killed by the cruelty of reality.

 _I’ll give him until he is an adult,_ Q thought, lowering the binoculars. He hadn’t come here to kill James, only to scout the boy out. Yet the bravery which James displayed by standing at his parent’s graves reminded him of his own struggles when his Carers had been killed in the Uprising of 652, when he had first been introduced to the bloodier side of the Faey world.

In human terms, Q would have only been 13 years old.

Some in the Faey world would consider Q weak for such empathy towards humans. After all, it was a well recorded fact that humans were a lesser race, to be used only as a link for those chosen Faey to gain the title of Guardian of Mother Earth herself.

 _Well,_ Q thought, _I have never been one to follow the popular trail of thought._

Q paused for a few more moments, watching the small black dots in the valley begin to trail back towards the manor, before scrambling back up the slope he was perched on and back towards the abandoned trail. It would take him a good few hours running at his fastest pace, which humans would not be able to match without the aid of one of their metal monsters they called cars, to reach the nearest human settlement.

_He deserves a life of sorts before I kill him._

The Rage quivered quietly in the back of his mind, a warning of what would happen to Q if he failed to kill James.

x-x-x

Time continued to pass, as it always did. Q settled further into the human life than he ever thought it was possible.

He took a library membership when James joined the navy. A ticket to knowledge, and knowledge according to one philosophical human figure was power.

And Q needed all the power he could get.

x-x-x

Venice was a city _“renowned for its beauty in both architecture and artworks…,”_ according to the tourist guide which fluttered in the wind on Q’s table. The rest of the sentence was lost from where Q had wedged it under the saucer of his tea so he could study the map of the city better whilst he waited for James to come out of the building on the waterfront. Even though the café Q sat in was a good way down one of the side roads, he could get to James within five minutes from this position. 

London had been Q’s home for his entire stay in the human realm. Even on James’ previous missions, after he had just joined MI6, Q had not followed his charge abroad. Humans were a difficult race to stay hidden within; he had enough trouble trying to stay hidden in London, a place he had lived in for over thirty years. He knew every backstreet and corner, which areas to avoid and which areas to go to seek solitude.

 _Maybe that was why I was chosen,_ Q thought, taking a sip of his tea, _because I can learn about their realm_. It had certainly been a surprise to be chosen from amongst the hundreds of his Generation, picked to walk into the human world. It was odd how, even after his extended stay in the human realm, he was not longing for his own realm.

His knowledge of the human world had come in useful to fake the documentation. A few days with late night spent pouring over the confusing paperwork he was to forge had been hard. Yet he had managed it. The destination had been a little harder, but a few minutes attacking the servers of MI6 had soon spilled numerous secrets to Q’s laptop.

Most importantly, he had found that James had dropped off the grid. A few hours chasing through reams of information on the internet had allowed him to find James buying champagne under a false alias in Venice.

 _I knew those programming manuals would come in handy,_ Q remarked silently. It was lucky that his Faey mind worked far faster than the mind of a human. He had not been idle whilst he had waited for James to grow older, developing his skills to the point that he was easily one of the best hackers in the world.

A spike of pain shot through his head. Q grabbed the side of his head as the pain pulsed for a few beats before disappearing again. It was the premonition, a warning from his Faey magic that this mission James was on would be different. Q could feel his biology slowly preparing itself for the final attack, like a predator tensing its muscles before it pounced on its prey. His leg kept shaking in his excitement, the nervous energy pummelling through his body.

The teacup rattled in its saucer.

Q paused, lowering his hand and stilling the cup. It wouldn’t normally do that, the laws of the human realm would deny the cup such movement. Alas, against logic’s better judgement, it kept shaking under Q’s touch, the tea slopping over the edges of the cup and into the saucer.

Then there was screaming.

Q looked down the street, towards the riverside. People flooded the street, all running in Q’s direction, screams growing louder as the wave of people closed in on Q. He placed his hands over his ears, but it was to no avail. The screams became a roar that almost knocked him from his chair as the crowd surged past, hundreds of feet all pounding at the pavement.

The screams were joined by a deeper, booming sound which reverberated down the streets. The sound waves smashed windows, glass raining down from up on high onto the fleeing crowds. Q dived under his table, watching the scene unfold before him in horror and confusion as the rawest human emotion, panic, consumed the street. Some humans fell, hit by the falling debris that fell from the surrounding buildings, pots and plants which were knocked off their precious footing, tumbling down into the streets below.

_James._

Q jumped out from under his table, pushing people out of his way as he ran. The Rage beat inside his skull like wardrums, driving him onwards as he succumbed to his basic Faey instincts that he had bottled up for far too long. His feet pounded the ground as he sped down towards the waterfront. The buildings rattled around him. Q continued to run, faster, faster, faster.

Then he saw James.

A guttural growl escaped Q’s throat, although it was drowned out by the screamed of the fleeing humans which flowed around him like a river parting around a boulder. The building which James had entered an hour or so before was now gone, sunken into the water where its foundations had been ripped apart by the explosion. James had managed to drag himself out of the water, with the human female. Q’s mind reeled as he realised it was the one from the Treasury, the one who had been sent on the mission with James.

Q’s run became a walk as he smiled at James. The Rage was loud now, cutting out everything. To Q, there was only James and the Rage, drumming away inside him. He snarled, tongue running across his teeth in the expectation of his kill, taking of his jacket and letting it drop it on the pavement.

It would only hinder his movement when he finally ripped James’ head from his shoulders and took the human’s _ather_ for his own.

 _Now,_ Q thought, as hands bent themselves into rigid claw-like grips that were shaking with anticipation to wrap themselves around the human’s throat. He hadn’t tasted blood in a while, that juicy, salty taste his Faey side craved so much. The Rage was shaking him, whispering _attack, attack, attack,_ with every beat of his heart-

Then James turned around.

Q stopped.

The Rage quivered.

James’ eyes were red from crying, his lips set in one of agonising pain. The woman lay limp in his arms, head thrown back and black hair fanning her face like a halo. Q shook, his body wanting to attack James, but something in his mind stopped him. Q held James’ cold, dead, gaze. This man, this _boy_ that Q had followed for most of the human’s living existence, looked at Q with desperation in his eyes.

This was a human on the edge. This was a human who was broken. This was a human who needed help.

 “C'è un dottore?” the human croaked, voice thick with pain and emotion. Q stood, staring at the human, no _James’_ pleading eyes.

“C'è un dottore?” James cried, his body shaking from the anger. Q looked around him, panicking, not knowing what to do.

What do you do when you realise that you can’t kill someone you’re supposed to?

“A doctor!” Q cried, shaking himself out of stillness. The Rage quivered in the back of his mind, like an angry wolf that was denied its meal. Q ignored it, trying to focus on the look James had given him moments before.

“Un dottore!,” Q shouted, this time using the correct language, as humans in uniform came hurtling around the corner, guns drawn. They began to shout at Q in angry Italian, waiving their guns in his direction. Q’s body visibly shook, the adrenaline from the human Skin and the remnants of the Rage in his blood stream making him unable to move. The words were far too fast, Q hadn’t had long to try and learn the language. Instead he just sat, numb whilst the humans grappled him to the ground, and Q did not resist. His mind was somewhere else, replaying that same desperate look on James’ face again, and again, and again.

He couldn’t kill James Bond.

He couldn’t.


	2. Chapter 2

Three months after Venice, Q decided to join MI6.

A further three months of planning, one new Skin, and two hacks which he had purposefully constructed to ensure that MI6 _would_ find him routing around in their servers, he had a job at a desk in the specialised technology division of MI6, nicknamed ‘ _Q-branch’_ for short.

It was an interesting job, relatively good pay, and it kept Q abreast of what James was up to. The 00 division were talked about like some mythological creature, discussed in hushed whispers in front of the water dispenser. The water cooler chats were the fount of Q’s knowledge for the 00 division, after all being the new guy he only had Level 2 clearance.

 _One level higher than the receptionist,_ Q thought, repeatedly pressing the ‘down’ key on his keyboard to try and find the problem with the code which filled the screen. It was there, he was sure of it, hidden amongst the letters and numbers.

The proverb, _‘looking for a needle in a haystack’_ would describe his situation best.

 _No,_ Q corrected silently, _the_ human _proverb._

Q flexed his fingers, trying to focus his mind. He couldn’t slip into losing his own identity in this wealth of humanity which surrounded him. This job and the curiosity which drove him to watch the humans as they went about their day to day lives, was a mere diversion from his real problem of working out what to do with James.

He had to kill the agent. Yet at the same time, he _couldn’t_ kill the agent.

Q winced, pressing his knuckles to his forehead as pain shot through his head. The Rage was rebelling against the mental restraints he had placed on it. It was not a separate mind, after all it had no more intelligence than the ocean. However, like the ocean was governed by the mysterious forces which humans called _tide,_ the Rage was rebelling against its captivity. It needed to be free, it was driven to follow through Fate’s plan, take over Q’s mind and hunt down James.

A knock on Q’s cubicle wall startled him, as he spun around from the screen. Tegan, the inquisitive Q branch worker who had immediately taken Q under her wing when he had joined, raised her eyebrow at Q’s pinched forehead. She was one of the more pleasant humans Q had met, helpful and kind with a wit faster than an arrow and a personality far larger than her small build would suggest.

“You should really take a break, Nick,” Tegan said, dumping the folders in her arms onto Q’s desk, “you could damage your eyesight staring at a computer screen too long.”

“I can?” Q feigned shock. Tegan laughed, a light bubbly sound which suited her excitable personality.

“You sat through the same safety briefing I did,” Tegan remarked, “I can’t have Q-branches’ newest tea boy damaging his eyesight.”

“Why am I the teaboy?” Q asked, picking up the top folder which had _‘Firewall upgrades’_ scrawled across it in Tegan’s messy handwriting, “you all drink coffee, not tea.”

“The teaboy,” Tegan said, poking Q’s arm to draw his attention from the folder, “is the one who is destined for greatness. The current Q began as a mere caffeine producer.”

“As I suppose you were the teagirl when you joined?”

“I was the Queen of Caffeine,” Tegan replied, tapping the pile of folders, “can you get those done by Friday?”

“I can have them done by the end of the day if you need them,” Q replied.

“Now you’re just teasing, Nick” Tegan replied, smiling also, “no, Friday will be fine.”

“Aren’t you out Friday?” Q asked.

Tegan’s grin widened even further, bouncing with excitement.

“Girlfriends’ birthday,” her eyes light up with a mischief, “she has no idea what she has coming.”

“Indeed,” Q replied with a knowing smile. He had a pretty good idea of what Tegan had in mind for her girlfriend, “Now go and sort through your Queenly’s duties, and I’ll work on this.” He waved the folder under her nose.

“You can’t order the Queen,” Tegan remarked with a smile, stepping outside Q’s cubicle, “see you at the pub?”

“Possibly,” Q replied cryptically. He had managed to avoid most of the socials between the other members of Q branch so far, it was a simple requirement of survival. This job was temporary, nothing more. He couldn’t afford to make _friends_ with the humans, not if he was going to succeed in killing James.

“Oh come _on,_ Nick,” Tegan said, giving him a tired look “be sociable for once. I know it’s hard being part of the techy-geeky crowd, but it hardly counts as socialising. We just sit around and slowly drink beer.”

“That’s socialising,”

“Whatever,” Tegan said, waving her hand absently, “just be there. Pub - 20:00 soldier.”

Tegan stared at Q with a determined gaze, until Q rolled his eyes and gave in.

It wouldn’t hurt, just this once.

“I’ll be there,” Q said.

“Fantastic,” Tegan said, “don’t be late,”

She slid out of Q’s cubicles and back towards her own desk next to the current Q’s office.

He glanced at the clock in the corner of his screen. 16:00. Four hours. He might not _be_ human, but he had enough integrity to do a job properly when it was given to him.

 _Well,_ Q thought, turning back towards the screen, _every job apart the one I was born to do._

x-x-x

There was more than just humanity on the earth.

There were the Witches who set themselves as the Guardians of humanity, much like the Faey thought themselves as the Guardians of the Earth. There were the Dryads, the caretakers of the forests, water spirits who guided the rivers through their passage over land. There were ghosts of the dead who would flit between the walls of buildings in their endless search for closure.

Q had been fortunate, in retrospect far _too_ fortunate, to not have encountered another Non-human at MI6. It shouldn’t have surprised him, therefore, when a field agent returned from the field turned out to be a Witch.

A Witch who wanted to know how one of the Faey managed to infiltrate MI6.

x-x-x

 “The man of the hour,” Tegan said as Q walked to the booth where the rest of Q branch were sat, huddled over their respective drinks. It was curious how the humans tended to drink alcohol whilst socialising, as if they needed to somehow quantify their interaction with a certain type of drink.

“Here I am,” Q smiled, his nerves shaking his voice. The pub was so full of _humanity_ it was almost overwhelming, and the Rage in the back of his mind rattled against its mental cage in reaction.

“Alright, budge up, budge up,” Tegan said to the other people in the booth. Everyone shuffled around accordingly, and one of the others, Anthony, went and took a few chairs from one of the nearby tables in case any more people turned up.

“What are you having?” Tegan asked, practically forcing Q into the seat next to her.

“Just water, thanks,” Q smiled, trying not to show his discomfort. He would stay for a bit, that would be the plan, and then leave. At least he would have fulfilled his ‘socialisation quota’ for the month.

“You sure?” Anthony questioned. Q glared at the human. He was one of those who had joined MI6 for the mystery and status of working in the ‘secret service’. Even though he was a mere twenty seven years old, Anthony held himself like he was a member of royalty.

“Very,” Q gave Anthony a thin smile. Alcohol was a danger for Q, after all he had enough problems with restraining conscious mind, and he would hate to wake up one morning with an awful headache and a bodycount of humans in the double figures.

“Leave him, Anthony,” Tegan remarked sharply as she sat down next to Q. Q made a mental note that if he ever did lose control of his Rage, he wouldn’t kill Tegan just on principle.

Ten minutes later he was sipping on his ice cold water, listening to the bubble of conversation around him. The group was made up of most of the lower members of Q branch, with Tegan being the highest as one of Q’s main aides. It was said she would be up for the Top Job in a few years.

Q smirked as he took a drink. It was surely a twist of fate that had landed him in a department where the head job was the same letter he had assumed on entering the human world. He had just assumed the letter because he needed to call himself _something_ , and the deep, scathing language of the Faey would simply rip his current Skin’s voicebox apart.

Maybe one day he would become _the_ Q. Then he would be a Faey, pretending to be a human called Q, with the title of office, being _Q._

It was almost like it was out of that movie Q had seen a few years back, _Inception_.

Tegan’s phone vibrated on the table, a number flashing on the face of it. Tegan snatched it before the ringtone started, answering the call in one swift movement.

“Hey, Eve!” Tegan answered, nodding her head to the voice on the other end of the phone, “you still coming?”

Q sipped his water, trying to act relaxed. The Rage hummed in the back of his mind, snarling at any loud voice in the pub. Tegan ended the conversation with ‘Eve’, sliding her phone into her bag.

“Eve’s running a few minutes late,” she explained to the expectant faces. Q frowned in confusion, his memory wasn’t that good but he was sure there was no Eve in Q branch.

“Eve?” he asked.

“Field agent,” Tegan replied, eyes lighting up, “and hot one at that. If I wasn’t already dating-”

“I get the picture,” Q interrupted, holding up his hand to prevent Tegan spilling every aspect of this ‘Eve’, “how come I haven’t met her before?”

“Don’t be insulted,” Tegan replied with a sly smile “field agents are a rare breed of human, who have about the same amount of social skills as yourself.”

“I thought that was the 00 section,” Anthony remarked blandly.

“I wouldn’t believe if the 00 section weren’t bloody vampires,” Tegan continued, taking a heavy swig of her drink - a dark beer whose smell did not appeal to Q in the slightest - before she continued, “y’know what with the almost immortal 007.”

“Immortal?” Q questioned. _Has something happened to James?_ he thought, anxiety building up inside him-

“He seems to have some guardian angel watching over him,” Tegan said, looking oddly at Q, “you alright Nick?”

“Yeh,” Q replied, scraping a hand through his hair as the attention of the table turned to him, “just a bit tired.”

A woman strode into the pub, Q could just see her over the brim of the booth. She was indeed pretty, as Tegan had said, but there was something about her which spoke of more. She wore the same emotionless façade which all field agents wore. Yet there was a depth to her eyes which suggested something far worse.

Witch.

 _Shit,_ Q swore silently, keeping his focus on his glass. He had once considered the use of certain words to convey bad emotions a ridiculous practise, but they had slowly crept into his vocabulary nonetheless. It was as if the human society around him was slowly creeping through his Skin and into the Faey side of him.

The thought terrified him.

“Oi, Nick,” Tegan said, punching Q in the shoulder lightly to grab his attention. He glanced up from his drink, trying to keep a straight face as the Witch looked down at him from where she was standing behind Tegan.

“Meet, Eve,” Tegan said, introducing the Witch to Q. Q felt his heart drum in his chest as he plastered as pleased smile onto his face, holding out his hand in the traditional human gesture.

“Lovely to meet you,” Q said, his voice not betraying a hint of his terror. Witches were known for killing Faey on sight, especially as they could use their magic to perceive through a Faey’s Skin and see their true face.

Which meant she could also see the Rage beating inside Q. She would know he was hunting a human.

“You also,” the Witch replied, a flash of panic flying across her eyes before her face settled back into its original calm mask.

Tegan began further introductions around the table, allowing Q to settle back into the booth seat, taking a swig of his drink. The cool water calmed his nerves, even if it did not have the ability to fuzzy his thoughts. The conversation washed over Q as he worked out how he was going to get away from the Witch without making it obvious.

Stupid humans and their social niceties.

x-x-x

Q wormed his way out of the pub, pulling his coat tightly around him. He had managed to concoct an excuse which satisfied Tegan, so he had only had to sit through an excruciating half an hour in the company of the Witch.

The evening air was cold, and a bitter wind drifted down the street, tugging a plastic bag along the path with it. Breathing a sigh of relief, Q started off down the road back towards his flat - another human oddity he had picked up. Faey did not have one permanent home, especially when in the human realm. However, the comfort of having one place that was _his,_ even if it had been acquired by means which humans would have considered immoral, was too good to sacrifice for an aging Faey tradition.

A hand grabbed his shoulder, dragging him into an alley way with such force that it caught Q off balance. Before he knew it, he found himself pinned against the wall of a building by some unseen force. He swore, struggling against the unseen bonds, before looking up at his assailant.

The Witch twisted a long stick, Q presumed it was her wand, pressing him harder into the wall until he could feel the individual bricks through his thick coat.

"Tell me one good reason I shouldn't kill you," she hissed, voice dark. There was no doubt she would follow through on her threat.

“Talk about pleasant introductions,” Q commented dryly.

  _Well done Q,_ he remarked silently, _go for humour when you’re facing down a_ Witch _of all people. She isn’t a normal human._

"Answer. Me." the witch stepped closer, her heels allowing her to look Q dead in the eyes, digging her wand into the soft skin at Q’s throat, “now.”

“What do you want?” Q said, wincing as he spoke. He couldn’t allow the witch to blow his cover, or worse _kill_ him. He needed to be near James, and MI6 was his only hope of keeping track of the elusive agent, especially after Venice.

“Why are you here?” she hissed.

“For the view,” Q plastered a sarcastic smile onto his face “why do you think?”

“You can’t even admit you’re here to kill humans-”

“Was,” Q interrupted, letting a little hint of his anger thread into his voice. He needed to stay near James, yes, but he wasn’t going to let the _witch_ intimidate him.

The anger worked, Q could feel a faint tremor in the wand pushed into his neck. So she was scared of him.

Good.

A witch who wasn’t scared of a Faey would be even worse, they were always more methodical and precise with their actions. Fear, however, would mean the witch would make mistakes, mistakes that Q could capitalise upon and use to escape if need be.

“Was?” the witch questioned.

“Let me down and I can talk rationally,” Q said calmly, trying to resist the temptation to terrify the witch further. They were such easy targets, especially when they knew what the Faey were really capable of.

 _Think about James,_ Q reminded himself, shutting his eyes to concentrate his thoughts.

“Please?” Q asked, keeping his voice level. The witch’s eyes flicked over Q’s face, looking for a hint of danger or misdirection. Q kept his face impassive and calm, it was like talking to an agitated human child.

 _Or one that had just run into your table,_ Q remarked silently.

“If you so much as make a move-”

“Go ahead and kill me,” Q snapped, wincing as he moved his shoulders. The Skin could be damaged if the blood couldn’t get to his extremities, and he didn’t have the energy to go and search for _another_ Skin. Skins of quality were so hard to come by in this day and age.

The witch took a few steps back, lowering her wand slightly but not putting back into her jacket. She was tense, ready for a fight that Q wasn’t going to give her.

The invisible bonds disappeared suddenly. Q staggered forward, catching himself on the wall before he fell over completely. The witch continued to watch him carefully as his lungs heaved to try and get oxygen back into his Skin.

“Thank you,” Q remarked, regaining control of his breathing again as he staggered upright, “can we conduct this conversation in more polite tones now?”

The witch stared at him, not believing that a _Faey_ would be polite. Q fought the urge to roll his eyes, he seemed to be constantly failing everyone’s expectations of what he _should_ be doing. Maybe he would go and kill the irritating neighbour on the floor above his flat who seemed incapable of turning the music _down,_ just to live up to expectation.

“I’ll take that at as yes,” Q commented, straightening his jacket “now as I was saying I am _not_ here to kill anyone.”

“Really?” The witch replied, raising her eyebrow in disbelief, “and why would I believe _that_?”

“You can see the Rage,” Q replied quietly, stopping the witch as she was just about to reply, “don’t protest, your kind always boast that they can see the Rage. It’s common knowledge.”

“You should be dead,” the witch replied, eyes glancing up to Q’s face with a pitiful gaze. She could see the latticework of Rage which surrounded Q’s skull, a reminder of his true nature. It was the Rage which stopped Q from having any mirrors in his flat, the reflective glass was one of the few surfaces which would reveal his True Form.

Not to humans though. They lived in blissful ignorance, their bodies not having enough _ather_ to perceive the supernatural creatures around them.

“That’s one way to put it,” Q said.

“Who are you going to kill?”

“Was,”

“Is it Tegan?” The witch continued, ignoring Q, “because if it I will-”

“Cut off my head, or something just as dramatic,” Q replied, “you need not worry, my target is not Tegan.”

“Then who?” the witch pressed, “you didn’t just join MI6 for fun.”

“Why couldn’t I?” Q questioned.

“Your kind are driven by the Rage,” the witch spat, “it’s consumes your nature. You might not act on it but you would be driven by it-”

“How come you’re such an expert?”

“Specialist subject.”

“In witch school?” Q barked a harsh laugh, “the thought is almost amusing.”

“Just as amusing as a Faey who fails to act on his nature,” the witch remarked with a smooth smile. Q bit his lip in irritation; the witch was treading on thin ground.

“Who is it?” the witch questioned, raising her wand again.

“Does it matter?” Q replied, not taking his gaze off the witch “I am not going to kill them.”

“If you don’t, the next of your kind will,” the witch said, “isn’t that how it works?”

Yes, that was how it ‘worked’. A sticky problem that Q had yet to find a solution to; after all he had been in the human realm for nearly thirty years. The Portal would be opening soon, and another of his kind would enter looking for a human to harvest _ather_ from.

In a twist of cruel fate, the Rage would direct that Faey straight to James. If Q didn’t kill James, the next Faey would.

“Indeed,” Q hissed, curling his toes as he tried to reign in his frustration and anger. The pitying look the witch gave him certainly didn’t help.

“Who-”

“You know him as 007,” Q whispered. The witch paused as she processed the information, wand hovering at Q’s forehead.

“Shit,” she said. A troubled look crossed her face, and Q fought back a smile at her discomfort.

“Precisely,” Q remarked flatly.

“You were the same Faey,” the witch said, eyes widening in realisation, “the one that nearly attacked James in Venice.

“How do you know-”

“Specialist subject,” the witch smiled apologetically, “no-one else would make the link, don’t worry.”

“I’m not,” Q replied with a fake smile. Inside, he felt like his innards were being squashed in a vice. If the witch had made the connection, others would also, others who would kill him on sight for simply being a Faey.

“Don’t mess up,” Eve said, tucking her wand back into her jacket. She nodded at Q respectfully, before swivelling on her heels and walking out of the alley. Q didn’t move from his spot, the echoes of Eve’s words ringing in his ears.

_Shit._

Yep, that summed up his situation pretty well.

x-x-x

Q was careful after his meeting with Eve.

He still followed James, but now he used the computers instead of his fellow workers. Not that there was much to find - Q couldn’t find any trace of another Faey following James. He had at least two programs running to check out all of James’ destinations before he arrived, and a third doing constant sweeps of the personal databases in MI6. If a Faey started following James, he would know about it.

Q tapped his fingers absently on his keyboard as he stretched his neck to look out of his ‘pen’ at the rest of Q branch. It was quiet today, the normal hum of the office lowered even further to a gentle murmur.

Too quiet.

Tegan had been in talking with M for nearly three hours. Anthony had tried to hack the CCTV feed but it had been to no avail. Apparently Tegan had placed a buffer program in place so Q branch couldn’t spy on the meeting. Anthony’s speakers had played the _nyan cat_ tune for a good half an hour before they had managed to crack the code back in and turn the damn noise off.

It had been rumoured that she was up for the Top Job for the previous few months, after the old Q had retired after a long period of service. The rest of Q branch might be in titters about the possibility that Tegan was going to be their new boss, but for Q it was a gift. It gave him a friend in a position of power, a friend who gave him access to the few remaining databases he couldn’t hack into remotely.

An email popped up in the corner of his screen from _A. Howard._ Q clicked on it absently, the email filling the screen.

_She’s our new boss._

_Good._ Q replied, fingers tapping the keyboard and hitting _send_ in mere seconds. Anthony probably bribed M’s secretary, a thin slip of a man called Tom, a talent Anthony boasted he had inherited from his father. Yet, however questionable Anthony’s methods were, he wasn’t one for spreading false information, and certainly not about something this big.

 If Tegan was the new Q, it would mean his own position would be more established. He was working his way closer towards the 00 section, closer to James. The pieces were slowly falling into place, and soon Q was sure he would be able to stand directly in James’ shadow.

What he would do once he was there, however, was another matter entirely.

x-x-x

There was a theory among certain realms, that everyone was connected with invisible strings. There were strings for love, and strings for hate. Strings for friendship and strings for acquaintances. Strings anchored a person down, catching them in an invisible web which twitched however they moved.

Sometimes, Q thought he could feel those strings latching into him. He was in the same Skin, talking to the same humans, for far longer than any other Faey had managed. With each passing day the strings grew stronger, more of them latching into his soul with every conversation he held.

Yet it wasn’t the strings which trapped him which terrified Q. No, the most terrifying prospect was that he didn’t _care_.

In fact he quite liked it.

x-x-x

Q poured himself a glass of whiskey, the sound of the liquid sloshing into the tumbler echoing through the empty flat.

James was dead.

The bottle clattered heavily on the counter, as Q swiped up the glass and downed the contents in one.

Q poured another drink.

He wasn’t supposed to be _feeling_ this passion, this grief which was soaring through his body. He could still feel it, although what was once a red hot flame burning in his breast was a mere dull ember thanks to the alcohol.

_Dead._

The word was so simple, yet it represented so much more. The emptiness which Q felt inside him, the hideous vacuum that no material thing could fill which was so consuming that he almost couldn’t think straight.

Q hated it.

No Faey could feel this empty after the death of their charge, no they should feel _elated._ Ecstatic. They would have _shifted_ themselves to where their target was on the verges of death, dragging them back towards life just to see the terror and pain in their eyes as their _ather_ was drawn out of them.

 _I should be feeling that,_ Q snarled at himself, his teeth grating against one another, _I shouldn’t be sad._

Sad was a word Q felt vastly underrepresented the feeling inside him. It was as if the Humans themselves did not want to appreciate their grief, their minds not be able to cope with the sudden fidelity of life that surrounded them.

An image of a young boy flashed in front of Q’s face, standing tall in a graveyard all those years ago. Q hadn’t understood then, _couldn’t_ have understood why the humans would parade their dead to the Earth in a ceremony which was more for themselves than for the deceased.

Now he knew why.

Q stumbled over to the broken sofa in the middle of his flat. He had bought it off the internet, using various hacking tricks to essentially get the sofa for free. With his current pay from MI6 he could easily by a new sofa, but the harsh springs and course material reminded him that he did _not_ belong in the human world. A Faey was supposed to be tough, unfeeling, strong, not a feeble human who cried because someone had died.

But there were tears falling down Q’s face as he placed his drink next to his laptop, there was a pain in his throat from where he had howled at the night sky in vain. His head pounded not with the Rage but with the blood flowing through the Skin, each one like a mournful gong ringing out to tell the populace the sad news.

James Bond was dead.

Q swiped up the drink from the table, swallowing the contents. The laptop was one of his own design, built for one purpose - finding James. He had been typing furiously on it ever since he had got home from when the _message_ had been called in, yet the programs had only flashed the same message again and again in rigid green letters.

_No data._

Q growled at the screen, his free hand swiping a few keystrokes on the keyboard, making the message go away. He had searched every database trying to look for answers why, but it was all the same.

M had ordered the shot. Eve had taken it. It had gone wrong.

Q had barely stopped himself from going to kill Eve _personally_ , but it wouldn’t help. All killing Eve would achieve was the wrath of the Witches, who would surely cut him apart and hang his guts out in the morning light for all to see.

 _And that seems like the appealing option,_ Q thought darkly to himself, as he cradled the empty glass in his hands. The phone in the flat had kept ringing for the past two days, ever since Q had rushed out of Q branch as fast as he could after James’ death had been called in. It was mostly Tegan trying to contact him, the messages got angrier as Q refused to reply. Tegan’s voice would beg _why_ he was leaving them all now, calling his sick leave in at that particular time. How she couldn’t cope without both of her right hand men there to assist her.

The glass shattered in Q’s hand.

“Shit,” Q swore, as red blood began to stream through his fingers. This Skin was his best, and there was no opportunity of changing it now. There were too many strings who knew the face, too many people who knew Q as ‘ _Nick the guy from Q branch.’_

Q sucked in a deep breath, drawing the sharp pain which threaded up his hand and arm like a drug. This pain was clear, it was certain; he had known pain like this in the Faey world.

“Shit,” Q repeated, getting up off the sofa as he cradled his hand carefully. Glass fell onto the carpet, the tiny shards refracting the light that broke through the gap in the closed curtains. Q stumbled back towards the kitchen counter grateful for once that he only had a small space to cover. The blood ran down his fingers, dripping onto his clothes, smearing across the counter as he threw his hand under the sink.

Wincing, Q uncurled his fingers slowly as he turned on the water with his other hand. The Skin was slowly beginning to heal, pushing the tiny slithers of glass out of his hand. His Faey magics were still working, although far slower than it was supposed to for a normal Faey.

 _Why do I have to be different?_ Q thought to himself, watching the water turn clear again as the cuts on his hand slowly knitted themselves together. However much he tried to run from his true nature, he could never escape it. Damn it, his hand was _healing_ itself _because_ he was Faey, not a human.

Yet he felt so much like a human. Humans had a special camaraderie with one another, after all they were social creatures who loved more than anything to be in groups, talking to one another.

Trusting one another.

 _Dammit,_ Q thought, gripping the edge of the metal sink with his good hand. He had to stop thinking like one of them, _sympathising_ with them. He was a Faey, a creature of the Earth and was _not_ going to have the Human realm mould him into something he was not.

Q shut his eyes, drawing himself into his mind. He could feel it, the Rage sitting in the back of his mind like a waiting predator. He had locked it away in an attempt to fit into society, into MI6, but it had made him become too human. Reaching out slowly, Q touched the Rage with his mind. It quivered, surface pulsating until it exploded outwards like a supernova, engulfing his conscious mind.

The effect was immediate. Q swum on an ocean of anger and frustration trying to fight for control as he was pummelled with thick black waves crashing into his mind. He gripped the kitchen sink tightly, the pain acting like an anchor as the Rage swelled through his body.

_Hunt. Hunt. Hunt._

Q growled as the thoughts pounded inside his skull, the overwhelming urge to succumb to the Rage and hunt his prey. His body shook as the Rage snapped and snarled like a dying creature as Q pushed it back into the mental cage he had constructed for it.

The room swum around him as Q collapsed to the floor of the kitchen soaked in sweat. The Rage continued snarling against its bars inside Q’s head, but it was safely locked away where it would not harm him.

Or make Q harm anyone else.

Head pounding, Q pushed himself upright, hand scrabbling against the doorhandle of the kitchen cabinet to help lever him straight. His mind spun, trying to adjust itself back from the barrage of hatred and rage and pure _instinct_ that the Rage had unleashed.

The Rage still wanted him to _hunt,_ it still knew that its prey was somewhere to be found.

“You’re not dead,” he whispered, resting his head against the cabinets. The ceiling light flickered across his vision as he felt the void within him slowly fill with hope, bubbling to the surface. Relief soared through his body.

James was still alive.

x-x-x

Time passed.

Enemies resurfaced.

 _Think On Your Sins_ they said, as the faceless enemy attacked asked MI6 and tore up the front of M’s office.

Q’s fingers flew over the keyboard as he tried to repel the attack. Smoke billowed everywhere, and he tried not to think about the bloodied remains of his friends which surrounded him.

 _Tegan,_ he thought. She hadn’t deserved being killed in this way.

 _No,_ Q snarled to the faceless force behind the attack, _think on yours._

x-x-x

“So you’ll take the job?” M asked, pushing the file across the desk. It was cold down here, in the old war bunkers. It made Q shiver, the exposed metal and clean cut glass corners, it all looked too _pristine._ There was no character down in the tunnels, the walls didn’t hum with years of MI6 employees who had wormed their way into the office spaces, the computers, even the small kitchen. It was all temporary tables, temporary kettles, temporary _working_ until they managed to re-build the front part of MI6.

 “Well, Nick?” M asked sharply. Q had a lot of respect for her, she had a stoic reliance which many humans lacked. She took her office being blown up and had simply responded by relocating the entire of MI6 down to the sewers and demanding the perpetrator to be found who, in her words, _‘had done such a bloody crap job at redectorating my office’._

“I will take it,” Q said, voice sounding as hesitant as he was feeling. This promotion would change his life. He didn’t need more strings, what he needed was a way _out_ of this mess he had made for himself.

“I know it’s hard,” M said, voice softening a bit. However, her eyes spoke of no pity, and Q was grateful for that, “Tegan wasn’t your fault. You did the best you could in a bad situation.”

“I know,” Q replied, curling his toes in his shoes to try and focus his thoughts, “I’ll make sure the bastard is caught.”

“Do,” M remarked, nodding at Q in dismissal. Q stood up carefully, the Skin was hard enough to maintain these days after the stresses he kept placing in it, picking up the folder from the table and tucking it under his arm.

“Oh, Q,” M said, as Q turned his back to her desk. Q swivelled slowly. It was odd other humans calling him _Q,_ even though they thought it a mere title. If only they knew how fate had already determined he pick the same letter for his name when he had first entered the human world. M would certainly find it amusing.

Tegan would have found it amusing.

“Make sure he pays big,” she said, taking a swig of her whiskey.

“I will ensure it, ma’am,” Q replied, nodding in respect as he slipped out of the doorway, shutting it slowly behind him.

The corridors hummed with activity. Even if the architecture was cold, to look at, it felt similar to when Q had acquired a new Skin, when the body was somehow disconnected from the heart which was beating within it.

A hand grabbed his shoulder, pulling him into an office. Q didn’t even have time to react until the door had shut firmly behind him and Eve had forcibly made him sit in the spare chair, taking the folder out from under his arm and handing him a cup of tea.

“You need caffeine,” she said sharply, raising her eyebrow. Q smirked, inhaling the rich scent of the tea before taking a sip.

“Who would have thought a Witch would have given a Faey tea,” Q remarked over the cup, “it’s almost polite,”

“I did curse it,” Eve replied with a smirk.

The cup paused on the way to his mouth.

“Please,” Eve replied, rolling her eyes, “can you not take a joke?”

“Apparently not,” Q took another sip of tea, “what do you want?”

“You are to meet the infamous, 007,” Eve said, waving a second folder in front of Q’s face.

“When?” Q forced his voice to stay even. Eve knew that he wouldn’t kill James, but he would be dammed if she knew that Q had _positive_ feelings towards James.

Well, more than positive feelings.

“In about two hours,” Eve said, not noticing Q’s internal dialogue dance across his face, “please don’t kill him, I don’t want you to ruin the artwork,”

“Artwork?”

“You’re meeting him in the National Gallery,” Eve replied, putting the file on Q’s lap along with the file of his promotion, “in front of Turner’s _The Fighting Temeraire_ I do believe.”

“Is that supposed to be ironic?” Q asked.

“Google it, you’ll understand,” Eve said, “and whatever you do don’t piss him off,”

“It’s almost like you don’t trust me,” Q replied with a sly smile, “James does not know who I am,”

“He has never got on with the previous Quartermasters-”

“I heard a lot of it from Tegan-” Q stopped himself as he realised what he had said.

“Are you alright-”

“Yes” Q said quickly, grabbing the folders as he stood up, “I’m sorry, Eve, I’ve got to do stuff-”

“It’s fine,” Eve said quickly, pursing her lips, “I understand,”

Q smile was thin, and he knew Eve could easily see through it. Their friendship was based on a mutual understanding of who the other truly was, with Eve he felt like he didn’t have to hide beneath a layer of subterfuge.

“Thanks for the tea,” Q said, nodding in thanks as he leant on the door handle to try and open it. However, the door swung open of its own accord, as if controlled-

Q raised an eyebrow at Eve who slid her wand back inside her jacket.

“Go on,” Eve said, “have fun meeting James.”

“I will,” Q said, stepping out of her office. The door shut under its own will again, but Q barely noticed it.

He was going to meet James _today._ After so long following James, _guarding_ James, he was going to meet his charge, the one fate had told him to kill but his heart had told him to keep alive.

 _Today,_ Q thought, taking a strong gulp of his tea. His thoughts swirled violently around in his skull, his Skin not aiding the multitude of emotions that pummelled inside him. Q looked down at his half-finished tea, swirling the beige drink around in thought.

 _More tea,_ Q thought as he strode away towards the new office that came with his promotion. He was Q, head of Q-branch, working for MI6 at the top of the field. He had _friends,_ people he trusted, people he went out for drinks with.

Yet he still felt the crushing weight of his true nature on his shoulders. He was an impostor in a world which didn’t belong to him, a world he didn’t _deserve._ Q knew he was an alien wearing another boy’s face as his own. It would have been easier if he had just killed James when he had first met him.

 _But you still wouldn’t,_ a small voice remarked in his head, _you still wouldn’t because you love him._

_You’re in love with James Bond._

x-x-x

Q sat down, the anorak crunching under his weight. The art gallery was quiet, with humans pondering over the deeper meaning of the paintings which surrounded them. It was as if they were desperately searching for more meaning in their lives, searching for answers which were outside of their reach.

James sat, shoulders hunched in a fashion that clearly said he didn’t want to be talked to, staring at the painting with a lifeless gaze. It was a ruse, Q could read James like an open book. He was trying to hide his anger and grief - MI6 was almost like his home. James had a curious sense of personal honour to his country and to MI6 which meant he would take any attack on MI6 as a personal grievance.

 “Always makes me feel a little melancholy,” Q commented quietly “a grand old warship being ignominiously hauled away for scrap.”

Eve had told him to steer clear of the art critique, but damn her, the fading warship being dragged away to its fate was too easy a comment to pick up on. For him, at least, it represented his losing battle to his inner nature.

 “The inevitability of time don’t you think?” Q commented, eyes flicking towards James’ brooding frame “What do you see?”

 “A bloody big ship,” James replied.

Of course James would say that. Q had watched James’ life long enough to know that fate had dealt James a hand almost as bad as Q’s. If there was one person who understood the phrase _‘inevitability of time’_ it was James.

“Excuse me,” James said, his gruff voice barely hiding the polite tone he tried to convey, as he begun to stand up. Q resisted to roll his eyes at James’ mood, or at least slap him around the face. He would be dammed after having given up so much time for James to sit around _brooding_ of all things. James was a stubborn idiot, that at least had been clear since the first time he had barrelled into Q’s table in the café aged six.

 _“_ 007,” Q said, letting a small hint of authority enter his voice, “I’m your new quartermaster,”

James slid back down onto his seat with a look of resignation and despair on his face. Q refused to let a smile break across his face, finally James was listening to _him._ After all the years of waiting in the shadows, he could finally talk to the one man Q had wanted to talk to for so long.

 “You must be joking,” James remarked shortly.

Q shot a sidelong glance at James. The agent was still looking at Turner’s masterpiece, as if trying to find some new interpretation apart from a _‘bloody big ship’._

Bloody humans.

“Why, because I’m not wearing a labcoat?” Q said, a hint of sarcasm lacing through his tone. It was a challenge, a raise for James to break out of his shell and _talk_ to him, even for just a bit. Q knew there was an intelligent mind and wit lurking behind the chiselled face and broad shoulders, he just had to coax it out.

“No, because you still have spots,” James said.

“My complexion is hardly relevant,”

“Your competence is,”

 _Ouch._ If there was one thing Q had, it was _competence._ After all, he hadn’t killed James.

Yet.

 “Age is no guarantee of efficiency,” he remarked sharply.

“And youth is no guarantee of innovation,” James snapped back just as quickly.

“I hazard I can do more damage on my laptop sitting in my pyjamas before my cup of earl grey than you can do a year in the field,” Q said smoothly, eyes lighting up in the challenge. This was the James he knew, the James had kept alive, the James whose mind was fast enough to keep him alive in the field.

 “So why do you need me?” James turned to look at Q, staring at him with his steady gaze. Q refused to shift, merely raising his chin slightly to show that he was _not_ going to be intimidated by James’ stature or reputation. Q’s mind worked furiously for a response which wouldn’t piss James off but one which would show that he would back down. Q could feel his heartbeat steadily drumming inside his chest, ignoring the swooping sensation which went through his stomach at James’ smile.

“Every now and then a trigger has to be pulled,” Q remarked calmly.

“Or not pulled,” James replied, a hint of a smile appearing on his rugged face “it’s hard to know which in your pyjamas.”

Q held out his hand towards James. The human grasped it firmly.

“Q,” James said.

“007,” Q replied.


	3. Chapter 3

Q sat down at his desk with his fifth cup of coffee. It was only mid-afternoon but he had been up most of the previous evening trying to get intel from 004 about her mission tracking down the missing hard drive and so the coffee was the only thing which kept his mind buzzing as weariness crept in.

Q swiped his tablet to the home screen and tapped in the security code to bring up the comms link to James. Taking a sip of his tea to calm his thoughts, he checked the time at the top of the screen and quickly did the time conversion in his head. James would be at the airport by now waiting for his target to arrive. Whilst the attack on MI6 had shaken James’ usual unflappable exterior, Q hoped that this operation shouldn’t be hard. It only an intel gaining exercise, find out who the person on the train was working for, and then terminate him for killing Ronson. After that, James was supposed to wait for further instruction, as MI6 tried to work out why Patrice’s employer wanted to attack HQ.

The button on his tablet flashed as the comms link activated. Q pressed the button on the side of his headset, activating the line.

“Good evening, 007,” Q remarked, taking another sip of tea.

“Afternoon, Q,” James replied over the murmur of the crowded airport around him. Q pulled up the mapping program on his tablet, keying in James’ ID code. In a few seconds, he could see a small flashing dot which represented James hovering over the greyed outline of the airport.

“Are you drinking tea?” James asked.

“Coffee.”

“You must be desperate,” James paused as he worked out what time it was in the UK, “it’s what, three o’clock?”

“Two forty five, actually,” Q remarked, “and I was working with 004 last night, I have a valid reason.”

James _harrumphed_ down the phone.

“Do you ever go outside?” James asked.

“On occasion,” Q said, “now please stay focused, Bond.”

“I am focused,” James said, “I just want to listen to your voice.”

“This comms system is not made for flirting, Bond.”

“It was a compliment, not flirting,” James said, pausing for a moment, “although it _could_ be.”

Q wasn’t sure which was stronger, the desire to throttle James or to blush at his comment. He thanked the Gods that James couldn’t see his face redden slightly, as he tried to keep his voice under control.

 “Got him,” James said, interrupting Q’s thoughts. Q watched as the small dot moved through the airport, picking up pace as soon as it was outside the crowded arrivals lounge.

“Remember the brief is to try not to kill him,” Q remarked. James huffed, and Q could hear James’ breathing picking up along with his pace, as he ran back towards the car. The sound of a car door opening and slamming shut made him wince.

“Couldn’t you be a little quieter?” Q asked.

“Didn’t you build a volume control into it?” James retorted back, his voice much clearer now he was in the car, “He’s definitely on a job, that briefcase is large enough to hold a rifle,”

“It’s almost like he wants to be found,” Q muttered, tapping his fingers against the edge of his tablet.

“Who? Patrice?”

“No, the employer,” Q said. Once 004 reported back it would be easier to place the pieces of the puzzle together. With the harddrive, Q could at least place traces on it to work out where the information had been sent, and correlate that data to the small pieces of information the CIA had let them privy to.

“Of course he does,” James remarked. Q pursed his lips as he watched James’ small dot drive out onto the main highway, “Otherwise why would he pull such a public stunt?”

“Power?”

“Too obvious,”

“Attention?” Q postulated, hearing the engine rev in the car as James changed gear.

 “Try to drive within the speed limit, 007,” he admonished, glaring at the dot as if doing so would convey the expression to James. Q had seen James’ psyc evaluation, and it had not been very positive of James’ current mental health. He would be damned if he had protected James for over thirty years for James to start acting erratically on his watch.

To be truthful, the entire of MI6 was still on edge after the attack. There was still a lingering fear lurking in the building, just as the stench of smoke and burning computers had been impossible to wash of his clothes afterwards. The Rage growled in the back of his mind, as it did most times when Q thought about violence.

James’ dot turned off the main highway, slowing down as it did so.

“He looks like he’s going for the kill,” James asked, “he is on another contract, just as we thought.”

“He’s going after Demidov,” Q replied, “cleaning up the remaining traces.”

Andrei Demidov had a number of links with the cyber operations around the globe, and Q had suspected that the attack would have been directed from his base of operations. They just needed 004 to confirm their suspicions with the hard-drive.

The engine revs slowed down as James slowly pulled the car up outside a building which had the name _Oriental Grand Tower_ according to the stark Arial font on Q’s map.

“He’s on the move,” James said, the _snap_ of the glovebox telling Q he had pulled out his gun. James was a man on the hunt now, waiting for Patrice to make a mistake.

Q gestured across the tablet to bring up a number of different networks, tapping his fingers to access the servers he had linked up in Japan. A few seconds later he had the tower’s schematics from a server located in the south of Japan which had pitiful security, and a program running a scan over the outside of the tower’s security system. It was like pressing an invisible finger on the web of security which protected the tower through the alarm systems, testing for any holes within the network where it had been-

The screen flashed blue.

“The security is already down,” Q said. He heard James shift in his seat, probably watching Patrice entering the building.

“Dammit,” James grunted. A car door opened, the clear _click_ of the door echoing down through Q’s earpiece as James’ little red dot begun to move towards the building.

“I guess Patrice has already made his presence known,” Q remarked, placing his tablet on the desk and typing away at his desktop keyboard. The screen may have not been as fancy as the main one in the ‘room’ Q branch had been given down in the tunnels, but Q preferred it immensely - less fancy pixels and more hard data.

Q linked the programs on the tablet with those on the computer, code flashing across the tablet screen as it continued to test the firewall.

“Lift shaft is going to be your best bet,” Q said to James, expanding the blueprint of the building on his desktop screen. Q heard the _swish_ of the revolving doors as James slid into the building following Patrice.

There was a silence as James crept up behind Patrice. Q held his breath, watching the little red dot move towards the lift shaft.

A sharp banging sound and a grunt came from the other end of the comms.

“Are you on the lift, 007?” Q asked. The flashing dot stayed in the same place as Q’s map did not have a 3D view. He made a mental note to write another program that could transform blueprints into 3D schematics at a later date.

“In a manner of speaking,” James replied through gritted teeth. Q frowned, trying to work out what James had done -

 _You’re an idiot, James,_ Q thought. The flashing dot on his screen didn’t do justice to the position James was currently in, dangling from the bottom of the lift underneath Patrice.

“Try not to fall down the lift shaft, 007,” Q remarked, “call when it’s done.”

“Try not to destroy the internet, Q,” James replied with a grunt as he shifted his weight.

The connection ended just as someone knocked on the door.

“Finished flirting?” Eve said as she strode into the room. Q almost jumped out of his chair, turning to give an unimpressed look to the witch.

“Whatever,” Eve said, pushing herself off the doorframe. Today she truly was the image of terror which Q had been taught about as a Youngling Faey, a witch whose looks could reel you in before her magic struck you numb.

Luckily for Q, however, he wasn’t interested in females anyway, whatever their species.

“004 reported in,” Eve said, handing him a fax that was still warm from where it had been printed. On it were lines of numbers and letters, looking like nothing more than a computer error. However, the code was of Q’s creation and his eyes quickly picked out the meaning behind the seemingly random letters.

“The server room wasn’t there?” Q said, his voice betraying his confusion as he looked back to Eve, “as if-”

“The person who was behind the attack wanted us to go looking,” Eve said, “he made it look like they were there because he wanted us to follow it.”

“A test,” Q whispered, mind suddenly whirring. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, but he resisted the urge to pull it out and check the screen. It would simply show the same message that it always had since Q had installed the program, the program which was constantly searching for any sign of the new Faey’s arrival.

_NO DATA._

Q was _sure_ that the Faey was through in the human world, even if his program wasn’t showing it. Something in his gut told him that there was another one of his kind walking the planet, hiding underneath a face which he did not know.

“Q?” Eve asked, noting his thoughtful expression.

“Nothing,” Q smiled, shaking his head to get his thoughts back straight. He felt the earpiece vibrate in his ear, and his hand pressed the _accept button_ immediately.

“We have a problem,” James said, his voice sombre.

His voice told Q all he needed to know - Patrice was dead.

“Shit,” Q said. Eve rolled her eyes, she knew well enough what James had just told Q.

“I have a chip,” James said, “for a casino.” Q could hear James walking down the stairs as he talked, trying to get out of the building as fast as he could. Q immediately took to his keyboard, bringing up the various CCTV feeds to ensure that any remains of James’ presence was removed from the system. Luckily for James, Patrice knew his work well, the only footage Q could find was a few seconds of James walking into the foyer of the bank.

Ten keystrokes was all it took to remove those few seconds of footage.

“I’ll sort it out,” Q said, “you’ll have the info by tomorrow evening.”

“Thanks, Q” James replied.

The phone line clicked _off_ again.

“He knows we’re closing in,” Q turned to Eve, his mind working through all the different possibilities, “he’s five steps ahead of us and we’re just following his trail.”

“He’ll know James is coming for him,” Eve said, fingers tapping against her skirt in thought, “If James follows the trail he’s going to need back up.”

“I need to go out there-” Q started.

“I thought you hated planes?” Eve interrupted.

Q ground his teeth.

“Amazing what dedication will do,” Eve teased, smiling suggestively, “I’ll go Q. Give me all the information and I can be on a flight this evening.”

“Couldn’t you just teleport?”

Eve handed him the files concerning 004, giving him a look a mother might give a child when they asked a particularly ridiculous question.

“That might give away my true identity don’t you think?” she remarked flatly.

“It’s 14 hours of your life you’ll waste,”

“They’ll have good films,” Eve replied, waving her hand in the direction of Q’s computer, “I’ve got to go and meet M on this new _development_ , so to speak.”

“About James killing the target?”

“No about the fact you’re a being from another realm,” Eve said, shaking her head at Q, “yes, James killing the target. I’ll break it gently.”

“She’ll be expecting it,” Q muttered, tapping angrily on the keyboard. His thoughts turned to the phone in his pocket, he didn’t know if he would find the other Faey before the other Faey found him. It would be a race against the clock, like a game of cat and mouse.

“We’ll find him,” Eve said, patting him on the arm. Q wasn’t sure if she meant the other Faey or this puppet master who had the best secret service dancing to their tune.

“I hope so,” Q sighed, “I hope so.”

x-x-x

It took almost a week to capture the man behind the operation, who went by the name of _Silva._ According to James he was a nasty piece of work, and from looking at the CCTV feed earlier Q could only agree with James’ judgement.

Q checked his phone, the time _12:05 am_ glowing on the small screen. He scrolled through to the program tracking on any appearance of the other Faey. They would have to surface soon, after all if they would be driven by the Rage to kill both James and Q to fulfil Fate’s desire. However, his phone had just showed the same message, the bright pixels taunting him that he was powerless to change his fate.

_NO DATA._

x-x-x

Three hours later, Q didn’t even feel himself fall of the chair from exhaustion.

x-x-x

Medical was deserted in the early hours of the morning, as Eve dragged Q through the door and deposited him heavily on the closest bed. It was his own stupid fault for overworking himself before Silva was questioned tomorrow. He hadn’t noticed just how _tired_ he was, trying to bury himself in his work as a means of distraction against the anger that flowed through him whenever he saw Silva’s smiling face on the CCTV screen. Eve had cast a spell on him to take away the worst of the pain, but the Skin was suffering badly. It was one of the most important lessons a Chosen Faey was taught before they entered the human realm, do not wear your Skin for too long. If a Faey did, they would become too attached to it, and start falling fallible to its weakness.

“You could have killed yourself,” Eve remarked sharply, clicking her fingers in the direction of the CCTV camera and turning it off with her magic. Q only caught the words ‘insufferable Faey’ at the end of her sentence as she returned to Q’s side with a first aid kit.

“The new Faey,” Q croaked as Eve opened the box. His lips were dry, and he could feel his blood pounding through his skull again, obviously the spell Eve had used was only temporary. Q felt like his head had been put through a meat grinder, and he could feel the blood trickle out of the cut on his head. Collapsing at his desk and cutting his Skin had not been on his agenda for that morning. It was lucky that Eve had been around and heard the noise of Q falling off his chair, although now he was actually in medical, Q wasn’t so sure if it was luck or the fates deciding to be even more irritating.

“You’re suffering the Faey equivalent of exhaustion,” Eve said, wiping the blood from Q’s temple where he had knocked his head after falling over, “your Skin should recover soon as your magic heals it.”

Q groaned at Eve.

“So you want to talk about it?” Eve said, as she dabbled the swap across the cut. Q winced at the sharp pain, the strong smell of the alcohol based substance making his toes curl.

“What?” he asked sharply.

“You knew that this other Faey was coming,” Eve said, her voice even.

 _She’s fast,_ Q thought groggily. It had probably taken her two glances across his papers to work out what he really was doing at three am in Q branch.

Eve continued to stare into Q’s eyes as if challenging him to defy her accusation.

“You knew before and you didn’t try to pull any stupid stunts like working yourself to exhaustion,” she said, “you’re not immortal you know.”

“I was once,” Q sighed, shutting his eyes against the bright lights of the medical room, “and this other Faey is.”

“And how is that linked to Silva?”

Q shook his head. He couldn’t explain, it was just a gut feeling that he had that the attack on HQ being so close to the period when the new Faey should arrive was almost _coincidence._ If it was coincidence, then Silva wasn’t necessarily the same villain everyone thought he was.

“I don’t know,” he sighed, wincing as Eve applied a bandage to his head, “just a feeling.”

Eve gave Q a disbelieving look.

“Yes,” Eve remarked, “a feeling just made you work until you _collapsed._ ”

“Do you know what will happen when this Faey arrives?” Q croaked, “what happens if I don’t stop them?”

“James gets his _ather_ taken,” Eve said.

“He dies _,_ ” Q said.

“And yet you were ready to strip him of it at the beginning,” Eve remarked.

“That was then,” Q remarked, trying to ignore the memories of his burning _need_ to kill James all those years ago. It hurt him to think he would have killed James in that coffee shop if it wasn’t for those large blue eyes blinking up at him innocently.

“You’re balancing on a knife’s edge,” Eve said, her eyes flicking up to Q’s forehead, “that much Rage around your skull-”

“I’ll be dead within two years,” Q said, his voice thickening with emotion, “I know.”

Silence fell between them as Q watched Eve’s mind turn with a way to comfort him. Without any ather, the Rage would continue to consume his mind until it eventually killed him. Q was almost surprised he had lasted this long, but then he supposed he had a purpose to fight its deathly embrace.

James.

“Couldn’t you find another?”

“What?”

“Another source of the _ather_?” Eve asked.

“Fate decrees that the one the Rage chooses is the one the Faey must kill,” Q said, surprised that Eve didn’t know that part of Faey lore, “it’s why they get to become a Guardian of the Earth.”

“And then they get to return to the Faey realm?”

“What did they teach you in witch school?” Q questioned, rolling his eyes, “this is the stuff they teach Faey as Younglings. No, the Faey doesn’t return once they become a Guardian, they communicate with Mother Earth herself.”

“Right,” Eve said, a dark look crossing her expression.

“Did you learn differently in witch school?” Q asked.

“No,” Eve replied, shaking her head with a smile, “it was more the basic physics of a Faey physiology as opposed to the lore and beliefs behind it.”

“So you could kill one if you met one?” Q asked darkly.

“Well I didn’t kill you,” Eve said sharply, shaking Q’s shoulders, “now snap out of it.”

“What?”

“Feeling sorry for yourself,” Eve said, “you’re a strong independent Faey remember?”

Q shot her a dark look.

“Seriously, Q,” Eve’s voice softened, “you knew this would happen, you knew the other Faey would come looking. What’s different?”

There was so much she didn’t understand. How could she understand? She was still a human even if she could perform magic. Q could remember the times before he had been granted the Rage, the emotionless days where he would simply just _exist_ in a kind of mental wasteland, just waiting for something to happen. He almost wished he felt like that again, where there was no grief or anger, no worry or stress, just simple _existence._ It was why the Faey considered being given the gift of the Rage a great honour, because it not only directed the chosen Faey to a particular individual to kill in order to become a Guardian, it also allowed them to _feel._

 “The Faey don’t feel emotion,” Q said, knuckling his forehead to try and remove the thumping inside it as the Rage clawed at the back of his skull, “the closest we get to emotion is through the Rage.”

“Well you’re feeling it-”

“And I’m not supposed to,” Q said sharply, his voice losing its control, “even with the Rage I’m not supposed to be feeling _this,_ this hoplessness that however hard I try people will just _die.”_

He snarled the last word out, his hatred of the grief which was associated with it bubbling up inside him. Tegan’s face rose out of his memories to taunt him. Time would pass and soon it would be James’ ghost that haunted him as well.

“Well you are now,” Eve said, grasping Q’s chin and looking into his eyes forcefully, “and so you need to know how to _deal.”_

“I am coping-”

“You say that you never had emotions before,” Eve said, releasing Q’s chin and softening her expression along with her voice, “I just want to make sure you’re alright.”

Q paused. How did humans manage this, these tumultuous feelings which crashed and stirred within them?

 _I just want them to go away,_ Q shut his eyes, _I just want James to be safe._

“I should never have brought this on him,” Q said quietly, “On any of them.”

“It’s not your fault,” Eve said, pulling Q into a hug.

“They’re just a human,” Q whispered, trying to blink back the tears which welled up, “I could survive but they won’t.”

“You don’t know that it’s the other Faey,” Eve’s voice was quiet, just louder than Q’s strangled sobs, “it could be just Silva.”

“It’s never that simple,” Q replied, “this is going to end badly, it always does.”

“You don’t know that,” Eve said.

Q wished he could believe her.

x-x-x

When Bond appeared in Q branch with a dark look on his face, it took all of Q’s strength to push down the dark feelings of the early morning. Eve had managed to patch up his head with her magic to ensure that no one asked why the head of Q branch had a cut on his forehead. Q had pushed his hair down to cover the small bit of bruising which remained, hoping that no one would notice it.

“Let’s get on with it,” James remarked shortly. Q slid Silva’s recovered laptop across the table plugging in the cables required for the branch to begin breaking down the protection codes to access the hard drive. James looked like he was restraining himself from walking back into the cage and throttling Silva with his bare hands.

“Now looking at Silva’s computer it looks like he’s done a number of slightly unusual things,” Q said, amazed at how calm his voice sounded as he tapped a basic sequence into the keyboard. The computer responded as planned, as a number of interesting graphics appeared on the screen behind him. The graphics program was a creation of Q’s own design, turning the raw code into a visual system to explain to those who were not versed in computer language to understand. The graphic twisted and turned as the other members of Q branch each took a direction to attack the program.

“It looks like he’s established failsafe protocols which will wipe the memory if there is any attempt to access certain files,” Q remarked to Bond, “Only six people in the world can program safeguards like that.”

“Of course there are,” James sighed, looking up at Q, “Can you pass them?”

 “I invented them,” Q replied with a smirk, unable to stop himself. Q had created the protocols during a moment of boredom when James had been thirteen years old and during a positively tedious friend’s birthday party.

James’ mouth curled up in a smile, which made Q’s insides flip. He savoured the rush of happiness which ran through him, holding on to it tightly.

 _Focus,_ Q reminded himself. Silva needed to be caught and prosecuted, and that meant finding the data on his laptop. As much as he wanted to walk into the prison and rip Silva’s head off himself, he couldn’t give himself away now. He had worked too hard to protect James, to stay _alive_ for James.

“Right then, let’s see what you’ve got for us Mr Silva,” Q commented, swiping another sequence of code across the keyboard.

“Sir what do you make of this?”

Q looked up at the voice, one of the ‘Branchies’ as they liked to call themselves. This one’s name was Nathanial, whose expertise lay within encryption coding.

Q pressed the enter button, as the graphic morphed into a new shape, this time into a tangled web of lines and numbers.

“It’s his omega site, the most encrypted level he has,” Q said, mostly for James’ benefit who was looking at the map with a frown on his face.

“It looks like obfuscated code to conceal its true purpose,” Q continued, tapping on the keyboard, “Security through obscurity.”

The graphic morphed as the rest of Q branch turned their attention to Silva’s omega site, their fingers tapping away as they silently begun to chip away at the invisible walls which protected its core.

“He’s using a polymorphic engine to mutate the code,” Q muttered under his breath, looking back to where James was peering at the screen intently, “whenever I try to gain access it changes. It’s like solving a rubik’s cube that’s fighting back.”

Q had solved a rubik’s cube once, in his tenth year in the human realm. A challenge, the marketers said, but Q had easily solved on his first go in five minutes. His personal best was twenty seconds.

“Stop,” James said, “go in on that.” Q did as he was bidden, zooming in the picture on the board.

“Granborough road - it’s an old train station on the Metropolitan line,” James said, “it’s been closed for years. Use that as a key.”

Q typed in the code, and immediately the screen shifted, the puzzle unlocking itself. The graphic begun to unfurl to show its true nature as it formed a recognisable shape.

 _Good call, James,_ Q thought, as the graphic turned into a map.

 “It’s London, subterranean London,” James said, sounding impressed.

Q almost had time to marvel at the genius of the code, when the air vents begun to click open.

_Hiss._

The hydraulic rams pushing them open sounded like the warning hiss of a snake before it attacked.

“What’s going on?” Q asked, looking around Q branch, “Why are the doors open?”

He turned towards James, whose face had suddenly paled as he realised what the doors meant. Before Q could ask him what was going on, James set off down the corridor, pushing various confused members of MI6 out of the way as he did so.

A message flashed up on the screen.

_SYSTEM SECURITY BREACH._

“Oh no,” Q whispered, looking around the branch, “can someone tell me how the hell he got into our system?”

There was no answer as his eyes slowly slid down to the laptop sitting on his desk. Or more precisely the wires which were plugged _into_ the laptop-

“Shit shit shit,” Q swore as he pulled out the cables. However, the damage was done, the laptop screen flashing up with the message _Not such a clever boy now,_ as if to taunt his stupidity further.

 _I am going to make you pay,_ _Silva,_ Q growled in his mind.

“He hacked us,” Q’s hands curled into fists as he uttered the words. A tense silence descended over Q branch as no-one wanted to answer Q, as if to alleviate the stupidity of his mistake.

Luckily, however, James broke the silence with even more bad news over the comms unit. Q pressed the button on the side of the headset to accept the message.

“Q, he’s gone,” James said, voice even and calm. He wasn’t taking Silva’s escape any better than Q.

“Dammit,” Q said, pushing Silva’s taunting laptop out of the way and pulling his own in front of him. He looked up at the shocked Q branch, who all had their hands paused over their keyboards as if waiting for further instruction.

 _Deal with the problem now,_ Q thought, _think later. I need damage control._

“Team Alpha,” Q said, pointing to the left half of the room, “I want the security breach removed, and any traces of his program erased.”

“Beta,” Q continued, looking to the other half other half of the room, “get running diagnostics on that bloody laptop. If Silva’s intention was to get out, it’s unlikely he has any hidden codes to trip us up again. I want to know where that hard drive data was sent and I want to know it _now._ ”

There was a pause as Q branch took in their orders, before a flurry of activity filled the room. People darted left and right, but Q ignored them all and turned back to his own laptop which was now showing on the main screen.

“I’m in a stairwell below isolation, can you see me Q?” James asked down the comms.

“I’m looking for you,” Q replied, eyes scanning the map. _There you are,_ he thought, as he found James’ tracker flash up on the map.

“Got you, tracking your location,” he said, eyes flicking around the map for all possible route that Silva could take, “head to the next service door on your right.”

There was a crash down the end of the comms as James broke the door open.

“If you’re through that door you should be in the tube” Q bit back a remark about catching a train, after all it was his stupid mistake that had let the maniac human out anyway.

 _I am going to kill you Silva,_ Q thought as his hands flew over the keyboard. It was all making sense, the direct attack, the fact Silva focused his attack using computers.

It was almost as if he knew that Q would be the one at the receiving end.

“I’m in the tube,” James said, breaking Q from his trail of thought and back to the issue in hand.

 “Bond this isn’t an escape, this was years in the planning,” Q commented as James’ dot moved down the tube tunnel after Silva, “He wanted us to capture him, he wanted us to access his computer, blowing up HQ, all the emergency protocols, he wanted us to evacuate down here.”

“I’ve got that,” James replied dryly, “it’s what he’s got planned next which worries me.”

“District line is your closest, there should be a service door on your left,” Q watched James’ little dot which stop by the service door in the middle of the tube.

“Got it,” James said. A huge _clang_ echoed down the comms unit, making Q wince.

“It won’t open,” James commented, making it sound like it was Q’s fault.

“Course it will, put your back into it,” Q remarked. The idiot was a _00,_ a door shouldn’t be a problem.

“Why don’t you come down here and put your back into it?” James said. Q could almost _see_ the look James would give him if that line had been delivered in person, the one which said _I still cannot believe they let you be Quartermaster._

There was another sound of a _clang,_ although Q managed to pull the headset away from his ear slightly to prevent any permanent damage.

 “No it’s stuck,” James commented, almost drowned out by the sound of a horn being blown further down the tunnel.

“Oh good,” James remarked, “there’s a train coming.”

“Mmm,” Q said non-committedly, “that’s vexing.”

_If you die James I will personally go to hell and hit you around the head._

The flashing red dot which represented the train travelled closer and closer to James. Q held his breath, as the sound of a bullet ricocheting off the metal door echoed down the headset, followed by a deathly silence.

 _Be alive James,_ Q thought, _be aliv-_

“I’m through”

_Thank the gods._

“Told you,” Q said, keeping his voice even, “We’ve alerted security, police are on their way,”

James grumbled something about ‘ _useless police force’_ as he continued his pursuit down the service tunnels of the tube.  Q glanced back at the rest of the branch, nodding at Megan who was trying to get his attention from her desk.

“Program is mostly erased, sir,” Megan said, “although we’ve kept back the main sequence. It looks like a similar code to the one which activated the original explosion.”

“Good work,” Q nodded. She was a resourceful person, one who was able to act on initiative. Keeping the code meant that they had more evidence against Silva if he was still alive after James had caught him.

Q glanced back at the map, pressing the _call_ button on the speaker.

“Where are you now?” Q asked. James’ dot didn’t move from its position, but Q could hear the murmur of a crowd behind James’ voice.

“Central tube station, along with half of London,” James remarked, clearly irritated at the people who were keeping him from his quarry. Q immediately took control of the security cameras in the area, pulling up all of the different cameras which ran along that platform. His eyes scanned for the James’ face.

“Oh I see you,” Q said brightly, as James twisted in the middle of the platform as if Q was behind him.

“I know where I am Q, where’s he?” James snapped.

“Give me a second I’m looking for him,” Q’s eyes scanned over the various faces on the platform, trying to look for Silva.

“There’s too many people, I can’t see him.”

“Welcome to rush hour on the tube, not something you’ll know much about,” Q drawled. James snorted at the comment, refusing to rise to the accusation. Q’s fingers flew faster over the keyboard as the train begun to pull out of the station, he wasn’t sure if Silva was on the train or not -

“The train’s leaving, do I get on the train?” James asked.

“Don’t get on the train, I’m not sure he’s on it,” Q said, zooming in on one of the faces, “give me a minute.”

 _Is it you?_ Q thought silently, as he zoomed in on the person’s face.

“Do I get on the train?” James repeated, temper short.

 _Shit,_ Q thought, as Silva’s face materialised out of the pixels, standing in policeman’s uniform on the train which was now pulling out of the station.

“Bond,” Q said sharply.

“What?”

“Get on the train.”

Q saw James’ eyeroll from the cameras, as he turned to sprint down the platform much to the confusion of the other people standing on it. Q held his breath as James made a leap for the back of the train, crashing into the door and barely holding onto the handle to stop himself falling off.

“Open the door please,” James said. Q chuckled down the comms, as James banged on the door to make the startled guard let him in, “open the door!”

The sound of the draw clicking open was barely audible above the roar of the train as it charged through the underground network of tunnels to its next destination.

“Health and safety, carry on,” James said, probably to the guard.

“Is that supposed to be ironic?” Q asked. James didn’t reply, his total focus was on capturing Silva before he made his next move

“Where is he Q?”

“He’s in disguise now, he’s dressed as a policeman.”

“Of course he is,” James muttered.

Q glanced across the map, pulling up the timetables to work out where the train was headed, _why_ Silva had chosen that train. If his previous actions were anything to go by, Silva had planned this attack down to the very last letter.

“He’s going for M,” James said, just as Q was about to say the same to him, “tell Tanner to get her out of there.”

A few keystrokes was all Q needed to send a message to Tanner that Silva was coming for M. Whether he would be able to act on it was another matter. He sent a quick program up to send the message repeatedly every three minutes, that way it would fill up Tanner’s screen like an ad-bomb hack and force him to register the message.

“I’m going for her,” James said, “contact me if you need me,”

“Understood, 007,” Q said, clicking the comms to _off._ James liked to work this way, when he was going in for the final kill. Apparently it enabled him to think in the moment instead of having ‘ _someone twittering down his ear and distracting him’._ Q would be able to contact James if he needed, but in the meantime, he focused his attention on Silva’s attack on the Q branch systems.

“Megan,” Q snapped, clicking his fingers, “I want a diagnostic of that code on my desk in ten minutes, Nathanial, what’s the update on the laptop?”

“The encryption has re-coded itself sir,” Nathanial replied, looking up from his desk. The rest of Beta team were huddled around Silva’s laptop, pressing and prodding it with both physical tools and code sent from their computers to force it to reveal its secrets.

“Silva is going to have a whole web of computers working on keeping it that way,” Q said, “and in the event Silva is _incapacitated,_ to put it one way, I want those files to be cleared up. Check if 004’s intel on the hard-drive cross reference to make sure nothing is missed.”

Nathanial nodded.

“Antony,” Q said to his second in command, who was currently busy dealing with localising Silva’s location, “get the police hovering about. Nothing to cause public panic, lord knows the media outside would go insane, just a few titbit of info to get them circling.”

“Done,” Anthony said, turning back to his computer to do as he was asked.

“Sir,” Megan shouted from her desk, “reported explosion on the tube, where 007 is currently positioned.”

Q swung around to look at the main map. James’ dot was still for a few flashes, before it begun to move towards the stairwell which led out towards the street.

“He’s fine,” Q said with certainty. The Rage rumbled in the back of his mind - if it still was active at the mention of James’ name, then he couldn’t be dead.

“Silva is in the ministry building,” another voice called from the back of Alpha group, “the media vultures are circling and tweeting it all live.”

“Gods damn twitter,” Q muttered under his breath, as he watched James’ dot run down towards the building where M was having her hearing. However, just as soon as he had entered, James was leaving again. Q’s forehead creased in confusion as he went towards the dot marked _TRAVEL,_ M’s car, his flashing dot overlapping the car’s dot on the screen. He had got inside and was waiting for M to come out.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, the car sped off, and the speaker’s light flashed under the _incoming call,_ button. Q switched it over to his headset, as knowing James it was unlikely what he was doing was not to be broadcast through the entirety of Q branch.

“Q, I need help,” James said.

“I’m tracking the car, where are you going?” Q asked, glancing over his shoulder to make sure everyone was doing their appointed tasks. Nick gave him a confused look but Q waved his hand to show that everything was fine.

The less everyone knew the better.

“I’ve got M, we’re about to disappear.”

“What?” The word escaped Q’s mouth before he could stop himself. He knew James could be rash, but to make someone _disappear?_ That would take-

“I need you to leave a trail of breadcrumbs impossible for anyone to follow except Silva,” James interrupted his thoughts, “you think you can do that?”

“I’m guessing this isn’t strictly official?”

“Not even remotely,” The bastard sounded almost amused that Q had asked.

“So much for my promising career in espionage,” muttered Q. On reflex he pulled his cold cup of tea towards him, and took a sip. Cold tea was revolting on normal days, but now Q just needed the comfort of the caffeine. James was going to pull a dangerous and stupid stunt to catch Silva, and use M as the bait.

And he was going to help him.

 _I hope you’re up to this, James,_ Q thought, as he watched James’ tracking dot drive out of London, _I hope you’re up to this._

x-x-x

The whole office was tense as they waited for James to report in.

Even though Q had not breathed a word of what James was up to, trying to keep a secret in an agency whose sole purpose was to find out secrets was almost impossible.

 _Well,_ Q considered, _all those secrets apart from ones they think are impossible, like not being human._

The hours ticked by, and Q found himself waiting in Tanner’s office with Tanner and Eve. Tanner had broken out the good scotch from the cupboard, as they passed the hours waiting for James to report in.

It was in the early hours of the morning that Q received a phone call to his personal phone. How James knew his personal number, when he had a separate work phone for such circumstances, he would never know.

“James?” Q asked.

“She’s dead.”

His voice cut through Q like a knife, as he glanced up at the expectant faces of Tanner and Eve. He shook his head just once, enough to convey the information. Eve downed her drink in one go, and Tanner’s knuckled turned white in anger.

“And Silva?” Q asked. There was a slight pause, as if James was just realising the enormity of what had just happened.

“Dead,” he replied.

x-x-x

It was only when Q was watching M’s casket being lowered into the ground that he realised why humanity has such a reverence for their dead.

It was because of their feelings.

Humanity was rife with emotion that much Q knew now. When he had watched James stand next to his parents graves years ago, he had not understood how emotional humans were, and how they dealt with the grief. When Tegan had died, it had been a shock to Q that she _was_ dead, and that he should feel so frustrated and sickened by the act. Now he was able to place a smooth façade over his face, like many of the others attending, their grief shown through the mutual respect of the memory of M.

Q felt the void left by James’ absence as sharp as a knife slicing his skin. Once he had got back to MI6, he had returned to the flat he had been given when joining the 00 division and not come out. It was lucky, Q considered, that James hadn’t considered dropping off the map like he had with Vesper, but just in case Q had blocked James’ main passport. It was a polite signal to James to _please don’t leave the country, you’ll give me a headache._

Q felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He slowly slid his hand into his jacket, pulling out the phone to read the screen.

_NO DATA._


	4. Chapter 4

The rain fell out of the sky in sheets as Q walked out of the temporary MI6, raising a hand in greeting to the guards as he walked past their guard post. The street was already bustling with wet Londoners who were huddling under their umbrellas as they dashed from one covering to the next. Q frowned at the sky, pulling the collar of his jacket up to stop the rain from snaking down the back of his neck, and joined the throng of people which made their way down the streets. Q rather wished he had brought his umbrella, but stupidly he had left it at home that morning, resting on the side next to his coffee pot.

He avoided the tube stations, as he did most days. The cramped, dark conditions were terrifying to Q, much like the cramped space on a plane. He had only one experience of flying, right back in the early days of his MI6 career when he had been sent out by the old Q to aid 008 with her mission. It had been a god-awful flight, with turbulence and flashing lights to boot. The awful feeling of _helplessness_ that Q had been left with after he had touched down on the other side had cemented his opinion that planes were the work of the devil.

Considering Q had actually met Lucifer in person when he had visited to the Faey realm, which was saying something. Lucifer was a sly git who would enjoy knowing that Q would be scared out of his Skin by a mere human contraption. He would probably be cackling down in his realm along with Persephone, who was the real brains of the operation. Q found it endlessly amusing that humanity had painted Persephone as an innocent young woman, stolen from her mother and taken into the underworld when in fact she was the Queen of the Underworld who had kidnapped Lucifer for some company. Although her preference for pomegranate fruit was correct.

He walked past his usual route, hugging his coat around himself to try and keep out the water. It was to no avail, however, he could feel the water creeping down his back from his hair that was now plastered to his skull. His cardigan was already beginning to feel damp from the rain, making his skin prickle with the cold.

Four weeks had passed since M’s funeral, and life was almost returning to normal. Mallory was in M’s old position, a move which had been met with little resistance within MI6. Q respected the man more when he had chosen not to report the fact Q had laid a secret trail for Silva to follow in order for James to capture him, he was someone who would chose to do what was necessary in any given situation. Eve had told Q that she had accepted the position as Mallory’s secretary, saying that she was better suited to life outside of the field. Q was glad she had done so, ever since the incident with shooting James Eve had felt like she was on the back foot in the field, even though she was a witch. Now, she had told him, she would be able to coordinate the movements of the agents in the field as well as ensuring that any actions of the witches did not affect MI6’s movements.

Buried in his thoughts, Q almost missed the turning off the main road towards James’ house. It was a typical flat given to the 00’s, modern yet functional for when they were not on a mission but close enough to MI6 for an emergency. Most of the 00’s flats were barely used, as admittance to the section generally involved forgoing any sort of life outside MI6.

Q kept walking until he was in front of a flat that he recognised from the files. He pressed the buzzer marked _Mark Camford,_ and waited for James to reply.

“Yes?” James’ voice was gruff and short. _He’s probably been drinking again,_ Q thought. It hadn’t been hard to hack into the files where James’ medical records were kept. After all, he had built the system in the first place.

“Can I come in?” Q asked, squinting up at the second floor window where he knew James was, “it’s a bit wet out here.”

“What do you want?”

“Just checking up on you,” Q replied quickly.

 _Just that indeed,_ a small voice remarked inside his head.

“In the rain?” James questioned.

“I care about my agents,”

“I thought you only cared about your equipment?”

“Would I be so callous?” Q said, “Let me in, please, it is rather wet at the moment.”

James grumbled an assortment of curses in another language, probably German from the sound of the vowels, as the door clicked open.

“Thank you,” Q remarked politely, dashing inside and shutting the door behind him. It was only then that he realised how cold he was. The chill spread through his body, aided by the wet clothing which now stuck to him like a second skin as he made his way up the wide staircase towards James’ apartment.

 _I would have to pull a good few frauds to get enough money to buy this,_ Q thought to himself. MI6 did pay him well, well enough to keep his loyalty if it were not for James, but this was a level above what Q could buy.

He made his way to James’ door, knocking on the wood sharply. Hopefully James wouldn’t just leave him standing outside, like had done the poor agent who had been sent to check on the infamous 007 three weeks ago when the irritating agent had refused to answer any messages from MI6.

 _This is just a routine visit,_ Q reminded himself, _I need to make sure 007 is alright._

Even to himself, the excuse sounded weak. In all his time in the human realm, when he had been waiting in the shadows watching as James grew up, he never thought he would feel affection for the other man. No, affection was too weak a word for it, the burning hunger that lit within Q’s stomach whenever James stood close or chose to try and put Q ill at ease by flirting with him. Q knew James better than anyone, after all he had watched him grow up from a child to a man.

The door opened to a half-naked James, who was rubbing the back of his wet hair with a towel. Q raised his eyebrow, trying to stop his jaw dropping at the sight of a topless James. He had seen James in various states of undress before when he had searched through the agent’s files when he had first been given the title of ‘Q’, but never in person. Even when Q had been following James, he gave him some privacy in that regard. He might not be a human, but he had some morals.

“Can I come in?” Q asked, trying to keep his voice level.

James simply lent against the doorframe, folding his arms. Q tried to ignore the small voice that was quietly appreciating James’ well built figure. The fire lit within his stomach, flaring brightly as James smiled at Q’s inability to continue the conversation. This was far, far different to anything Q had felt before, when he had watched James from afar. Interacting with humans more had made him realise that they were _different._ They did things because they _liked_ doing them, because of the base impulse reactions that drove their minds.

Q almost gave himself into those base impulses, losing himself into the humanity he had originally cultivated as a cloak to protect him.

“Is there a reason you are not dressed, Bond?” Q asked.

“I should ask why you didn’t just take the tube,” James replied quickly, “you wouldn’t have got wet.”

“I just wanted to check you were still alive,”

“Is this a new duty in your role of Quartermaster?”

“Yes,” Q said, shrugging his shoulders, “And as I can confirm you are indeed alive, I suppose I’d best be off.”

Q turned to leave, but James grabbed his wrist just as he was turning away.

“What is it?” James asked softly.

Q turned to face him, keeping his expression neutral. All thoughts of the coldness of the rainwater seeping through his clothes and well-built James was disappeared from his mind. Even Eve hadn’t spotted that he was suffering, still suffering because James hadn’t been there. They had been only working together for a few weeks at best, and actually interacting with one another for even less time. It had only been then that Q had realised all the time he had followed James growing up, all those years watching from the shadows that he had grown attached to James in a way which could be described by no human tongue.  It felt like when he had first drunk the cup which unleashed the Rage within him, the flurry of emotion and the _power_ of feelings which had surged through him.

Instead, this time, it was feelings of joy and admiration that Q felt, instead of anger.

“Nothing,” Q said, pulling a smile across his face. He was not human, however hard he tried, and he had to accept that. As hard as he wished to be just another human, the Rage’s constant throbbing in the back of his skull told him otherwise.

“Q,” James growled, looking directly into his eyes.

“You’re not alright,” James said, brushing a stray piece of hair out of Q’s eyes from where it had been stuck to his forehead by the rain.

“Neither are you,” Q countered, eyes flicking across James’ face.

Time seemed to slow around Q in that moment. It was as if everything came into clarity in that moment, he could feel the drip of the water trail is way down his back, the heavy beating of his heart within his chest, the rush of air through his lungs as he took each breath. The constant thrumming of the Rage stopped, or maybe he just forgot to listen to it, Q didn’t know. All that he knew was in that moment where James was holding his wrist tightly within his own, half dressed and still wet from the shower, that the feelings within him were _oh so human._

And that, maybe for once, he could succumb to them.

It was James who moved first, Q was too frozen in his thoughts to act. The agent closed the space between them in one swift movement, cupping Q’s face and pulling him into a kiss. The feeling was exquisite, James’ rough lips brushing over Q’s own tenderly, before he rested his forehead against Q’s own.

“James,” Q whispered, the word laced with his desire.

“Yes?” James replied softly.

“Let’s go inside,” Q replied, shutting his eyelids as James gently lowered kissed down his face. Q’s arms wrapped around James as his hands slid along James’ back to feel every scar that littered its surface. James pulled them both into his flat, shutting the door with his foot as his hands slid under Q’s coat.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” James growled, his kisses becoming more desperate. Q responded, acting instinctively on his human feelings that pummelled through him.

“Same.” It was the only word Q could allow to escape his mouth before James pushed him against the wall, mouth teasing against his own. Q’s breath caught as he felt James’ hands slide under his many layers of clothing, warm hands touching his cold skin and making him shiver with delight.

“James,” Q said, pushing away from James’ kisses, trying to restrain himself from fully giving into his basic instincts. He wasn’t human, by Persephone, he was meant to _kill James._

And yet here he was, pressed up against the wall of James’ apartment, desire and hormones pummelling through him at such a rate he thought he might burst.

“Yes,” James hummed against his collar bone.

“Are you sure about this?” Q asked. He didn’t want James to make a mistake, not now. They could go back yet, but if they went any further it would alter their relationship forever.

Q knew he couldn’t kill James now. The Rage was simply an annoyance, along with the other Faey who had come through to the human realm, remnants of a past life he wanted to ignore and forget. James was that exit, a beacon of hope that he would cling onto until the Rage consumed his mind fully, killing him.

“Are you?” James asked, pulling back and looking at Q with the same intense gaze he had been hit with when James was six years old and had run into Q’s table in the coffee shop.

“Yes.”

“Then I am too,” James said, his hand wrapping around Q’s head as he pulled him in for a kiss. Q yielded with ease, succumbing to instinct as James pressed him against the wall and introducing him to sensations he never knew the human mind was capable of producing.

x-x-x

Q woke up in a bed that wasn’t his.

_What? where?_

James grunted next to him, wrapping his arms around Q’s torso and pulling him closer.

_Oh shit._

Q didn’t breathe as he recounted the memories from the previous night. There was no doubt that they were good memories, after all being on the receiving end of James Bond’s legendary sexual exploits was certainly much better than listening to the same exploits over the comms.

_Shit._

Sunlight trickled around the edges of the curtains, and the digital clock on the side which beamed the numbers _11:00_ cheerily into the room. Q nervously took a breath, trying to stop panic settling in. It was quiet, _so quiet,_ like the lull before a storm. It was confusing, there was something wrong and Q couldn’t quite figure it out-

Then he realised. The Rage wasn’t thumping inside his mind.

It was still _there,_ the constant sensation of pressure on all sides of his mind as it squeezed around his brain, but it wasn’t hammering inside his skull like it usually did. It was almost as if it was sedated for the moment and had retreated into the back of Q’s mind like a predator would return to its den after a hunt.

“Q?” James murmured against his torso, “what are you thinking?”

Q plastered a smile onto his face so James could not see his internal struggle. He wanted _so bad_ to be able to be with James, but his life was set down a different path. Q couldn’t do this to James, he couldn’t make James be in a relationship with him, or even _like_ him when he knew he was going to die from the Rage.

Maybe he would go off to the Amazon. He had seen a program about it the other day, and it looked like a beautiful place to visit. One last hurrah, as the humans would say.

“I’m just thinking how lucky I am,” Q said, “to have experienced James Bond.”

James smiled at the remark, the same smile which would always send shivers down his spine. It made his face light up, those blue eyes of James would sparkle whenever James gave him that smirk.

He was truly beautiful.

“You make it sound like it’s a one off event,” James said.

Q looked at James, drinking in the sight and savouring the memory. Every smell, every touch, every taste of this experience would be savoured, something to show him that his time in the human world had not been for nought.

James was here, next to him because Q had spared his life all those years ago. In all the time had watched from the shadows, he had never once paused to consider what _he,_ Q, wanted from his life. The fact he couldn’t follow Fate’s intended course meant that he could choose his own path.

“It isn’t?” Q asked.

James’ fingers wrapped around Q’s head and pulled him into a kiss. It was a kiss of longing, a kiss of desire, a kiss that promised far more than words could convey.

 _Maybe I’ll just wait a while,_ Q thought to himself, _I’ve got enough time._

As Q was pulled back towards the bed by James, he didn’t notice the small flashing screen across the room. It was his phone, which had been thrown across the room the previous evening as James had practically ripped his clothes off his body. The small words were barely visible in the rays of sunlight which fell over it.

_DATA FOUND._

x-x-x

The day turned into a week, the week into a month, and the month into a year.

He knew that this happiness, this middle ground he had found for himself and James would not stay forever. This was only a temporary solution to a problem, a plaster stuck over a festering and infected wound. As the Rage became stronger, it drew away at Q’s magic, making him weaker and weaker. When the other Faey arrived, it would slaughter them both, and there was nothing Q could do about it.

It was a mere question of time.

x-x-x

Q came back to James’ flat, _their_ flat, at one AM.

As each day passed, the Rage grew stronger. There had been numerous times in the past week alone where Q’s control had nearly snapped around James. James, who had been trained to observe every minute detail since his induction in MI6, kept asking Q what was wrong, but Q could not say. It pained him to lie to James, but there were some truths which could never be told.

The fact he was dying was one of them.

“Q?” James asked from the shadows.

Q cursed himself internally. Of course James would be waiting for him, the idiot had a protective complex far worse than any other human he had met.

“I’m fine,” Q said. The Rage snarled at James, clawing inside his mind as it wanted to get to its victim. It felt like a razor was being scraped down the inside of his skull every time the Rage reared its head, the pain brilliant and blinding.

“We need to get you to hospital,” James said, trying to approach Q. A snarl escaped Q’s throat as James came closer, making him stop in his tracks.

“Q,” James said. His voice became harder, like it did whenever James was undergoing a particularly dangerous mission. Q didn’t miss the change in James’ stance, a slight shift of his weight as he prepared himself for any attack.

Then everything happened at one.

The door burst open, catapulting Q towards James, and throwing them both down the small hallway. Q twisted himself so he would not fall on top of James, smashing into the wall with enough force to wind him.

“Hello,”

The word was not spoken in English, but the Faey tongue which Q had not heard in decades. In the doorway, cloaked partially in shadow, was another Faey. This one was not wearing any Skin, but the blood dripping down its long fingers and sharpened nails told Q that the Faey had not tried to hide his approach.

 _How could I have been so stupid?_ Q thought, pushing himself towards James. The agent was knocked out cold from the force of the blast but still alive.

“Is that your target?” the Faey asked, stepping forward, “so weak and feeble-”

“Come any closer and I will rip your throat out,” Q said, in English. The Faey looked confused for a moment as to why Q would chose a human tongue over the Faey language. Q would have been confused in the same way all those years ago, but he was not the same Faey he had been all those years ago in the coffee shop.

“You threaten me?” the Faey laughed, the sound delicate and fragile just like its appearance, “you are nearly dead, Q.”

It was then that Q noticed the wound in the Faey’s side, as if it had been stabbed by a knife of some sort. The Faey smiled as Q’s mind worked through the variables.

“I have to say,” the Faey said, “sitting in that little glass cage, I’m surprised you didn’t notice me.”

“You’re Silva,” Q said. _I was right, I was right all along._

“No,” the Faey corrected, “I wore the human you call Silva’s Skin. It was a delightful ruse, one that the Younglings back home will talk about for millennia.”

Q pushed himself to his feet, never taking his eyes off the other Faey. His balance was slightly off, but the anger against the Faey, _Silva,_ was still burning in his gut. Here was the creature which had killed Tegan and M, the creature which was determined to finish off James and Q if it had the chance.

A change Q didn’t want to give it.

“You’re something of an oddball,” the Faey said, face contorting with disgust, “I remember when you were Chosen, the scrawny little nobody who had been given the greatest honour in the Universe, who chose not to use it.”

“The Rage is not a gift,” Q spat back.

“See,” the Faey replied, “your mind has been poisoned by their weaknesses. I thought my little attack on your work would have told you that. You are an abomination, a monster, the ones parents use to frighten their children at night because you _became human.”_

The Faey snarled the last word out, baring its pointed teeth. Q watched in horror as an inky black substance begun to crawl down the Faey’s arm, congealing in its hand as an inky black mass which pulsated and moved of its own accord.

The Rage.

“Let me show you what you deserted,” the Faey said, raising its hand.

Q reached for his magic, shutting his eyes as he concentrated on the place below the realms. He could feel each realm stretched out below him like cling film, flexing under his touch until they all begun to merge with one another.

 _Come to me,_ Q thought.

Mother Earth responded to his call, gently stretching out towards his fingertips like the rays of the first morning light over the horizon. The human realm was the furthest away from Mother Earth, where her magic was weakest. Q watched in agonising slowness as the Faey begun to mould the Rage into a sword-like shape, waiting for the magic to come to him.

When it arrived, Q snatched it and threw it at the Faey in a blind attack. The Rage roared in his mind, grappling for the magic to sate its everlasting hunger. Q battled to keep the Rage away from the magic, but it still sucked the power from his attack.

The magic left his hands in a flash of light which the other Faey batted away easily. Q stumbled to his knees, grasping his head as the Rage scratched and clawed inside his mind, blinding him to everything else.

“You cannot fight,” the Faey said, raising the black sword high above its head, “you will both die.”

_James._

Q’s body shook as he tried to battle the Rage back into its shell. If he let it go now, it would hunt for the prey Fate directed it at -

Then he realised the Rage had not growled at the mention of James’ name. Instead it was the Faey in front of him which had activated its anger.

 _I can control it,_ Q thought. The Faey had been wrong, it was not Fate which decreed who the Rage would be directed at, it was a human who caught the Faey in question off guard, who had activated their flight or fight reactions.

Like a boy who ran into a coffee table.

Or like a Faey who was about to slice his head from his shoulders.

The time between his heartbeats slowed, as Q breathed out slowly at the realisation. The Faey above him looked down with maddened black eyes, face twisted in a snarl of hunger as the Rage drove it in for the kill.

Q smiled and unleashed the Rage.

Strength flowed through his veins instantly, the black latticework that had been sitting around his skull spreading out all over his body. The Faey above Q didn’t have time react as Q leapt at it, launching himself under the falling arc of the blade and knocking him to the ground. He easily rolled away from the Faey, spinning with his newly enhanced balance to turn back towards the Faey.

“How could you?” the Faey asked, as Q snarled at it, commanding the Rage to form into a punch dagger in his hand. The black substance pooled around his arm, following his will to form into the weapon of his choosing.

“Luck,” Q said with a twisted smile. The Rage was a thing of darkness, and now it had been unleashed it begun to poison Q’s thoughts with hatred, anger, and a bloodlust so strong it pushed all other feelings out of the way.

He was a killer now, expertly tuned to execute his task.

With a thought the punch dagger became a short sword. The Faey snarled as it leapt towards him, but Q was faster. He lunged with his sword, getting inside the reach of the Faey and stabbing him in the chest.

“Nice try,” Q said with a dark smile.

The Faey gurgled, snapping his wrist around to grab Q’s shoulder. It was only when Q saw the sharp black point sticking out of his shoulder when he realised that the Faey had managed to stab him in return.

Q stumbled backwards, as the Faey crumpled to the floor, his black eyes becoming pale as he exhaled for the last time.

 _Thank god James is safe,_ Q thought, as he stumbled towards the wall. He could feel the blood seeping out of his shoulder, the wound now empty as the other Faey’s rage had disappeated when the it had died. Q’s own Rage still pounded, now unleashed it was looking for a new target to latch onto to find its much needed ather. There would be no going back from this now, Q couldn’t contain it any longer.

It would kill him.

Q slid down the wall, legs crumpling underneath him. The pain from his shoulder was so bright it almost consumed the remaining thoughts the Rage had left untouched.

 _“Gaahhh,”_ Q screamed as he tried to move his shoulder. With his free hand he pulled the collar of his jacket into his mouth to bite on as he searched for his mobile. His fingers were slick with sweat and blood which was beginning to drip down his wounded arm, as he fumbled to key in Eve’s number.

Q cradled the phone between his ear and his free shoulder as the call dialled through, pressing his hand onto the shoulder wound to try and stem the flow.

“Q?” Eve’s voice was like a balm as pain consumed his mind.

“Help,” Q said weakly, “Faey.”

The phone slid from Q’s shoulder, towards the floor.

Eve appeared next to Q out of thin air, catching the phone before it hit the floor.

“I thought,” Q coughed, “you said you didn’t like teleporting.”

Eve didn’t reply to his joke, her face drawn as she muttered magic under her breath. Q felt the pain in his shoulder dim from a white hot ember to a gentle smoulder, nothing more than the Rage beating away inside his skull. Her magic might be able to stem the flow, but a wound from a blade created from the Rage could not be healed by anything other than _ather._ Even if Eve could have healed the wound, it would have done no good for the Rage flowing through Q’s veins was as much a death sentence as placing his head upon the block.

“Q,” Eve breathed, her tone laced with pity.

“Don’t,” Q croaked, “get James and get him out of here.”

“I have to save you-”

“I can’t be saved,” Q said, looking into Eve’s eyes, “you can see the Rage inside me, I’ve only got a few hours left.”

 “Unless you can get another source-”

“I can’t kill James for his _ather_ ,” Q said, disgust entering his voice. The Rage growled as Q said James’ name, its attention now directed back at its original source.

“You don’t have to kill James,” Eve breathed, stroking Q’s hair back from his bloodied face, “I can give it to you.”

“What?”

“I’m a witch,” Eve said, “I have more _ather_ than a normal human, it’s why I can do magic.”

“But-”

“Did you ever wonder how witches were able to kill a nearly immortal Faey?” Eve said, “it’s what we were taught on our first day, how to transfer some of our own _ather_ to sate a Faey’s rage, so we can kill them.”

Q choked back a laugh.

“You can’t do that. You can’t give me your _ather_.”

“Why?” Eve replied, confusion flitting across her face, “It’ll save you,”

“And then I’ll become a Guardian. I won’t be _me_ anymore, Eve,”

“You won’t have James you mean?”

Q tilted his chin slightly. _Yes_.

“You don’t know what happens do you?” Eve’s face coloured with anger, “you are sent on a wild goose chase, hunting for blood-”

“We become Guardians,” Q interrupted weakly, “of the earth.”

“And you haven’t wondered why they’re never seen again?” Eve asked, her eyes lighting up with anger, “why you never see your ‘Guardians’ again?”

Q shut his eyes, leaning into Eve’s embrace. It was too much for him to cope with now. The Rage snarled inside his mind as he tried to focus on the memory of when he had first woken up beside James.

He needed a happy memory to concentrate on as he was dying.

“The Rage is not a gift,” Eve whispered, her voice barely audible over the Rage thumping inside his mind, “it’s supposed to lead you to the worst fate imaginable.”

“Do I die?” Q asked. Death seemed like a good option now, he wouldn’t have to try and fight any more, he wouldn’t have to try and pretend to be someone he wasn’t.

He wouldn’t have to lie to James.

“No,” Eve whispered, placing her hand over Q’s wound and sending another silent spell to try and stem the blood flow, “you become human.”

The word was like a glimmer of hope, pulling Q from his dark thoughts and towards lucidity.

“Human?” he croaked.

“Yes,” Eve said, “that’s the paradox about the Faey. What they believe is the worst punishment is the greatest gift of all - you gain _life.”_

“You’ll die though,” Q said, “that much _ather-”_

“It’ll probably lower me a grade or two for sure,” Eve said, “but I’m powerful enough to survive. Anyway, it would make my job _much_ harder without MI6’s Quartermaster to help me.”

“I can live?” Q croaked, desperate.

“Yes,”

“Do it,” Q said, shutting his eyes as the Rage roared within him, “please.”

He could feel himself slipping as Eve began to chant words he did not recognise. The Rage was a void, and like all voids Q could feel himself slipping backwards towards it, being sucked into the nothingness of death.

Then, out of nowhere, a blinding pain appeared, making Q scream. It felt like he was on fire, every part of him burning brighter than a thousand suns.

Then nothing.

x-x-x

Q opened his eyes to the white ceiling of the hospital.

_Pain._

It wasn’t the bright pain of being stabbed. No it was the pain of a hundreds of thousands of cells dying and re-growing with every passing second. It was the decay he felt inside him, the constant determination of a body which was not supposed to live longer than its allotted time.

_Mortal._

Q gasped in shock, as he looked at his body. There was no Rage pounding inside his skull, no desire to kill or to maim. For so many years the Skin he had worn felt like a well cut suit instead of his own body, but now Q could feel that it was actually _attached_ to him.

Then he caught his reflection in the mirror.

He used to hate mirrors, they were the only surface which would have shown his True Form, all high cheekbones and delicate skin like the Faey he had faced down in James’ apartment. Yet instead of translucent skin, Q found that his skin was opaque, covering the muscles and bone underneath. Coal black eyes were replaced with soft human ones which were specked with brown and black. As he analysed his face, Q realised that the eyes on the reflection moved in time with his own glance-

They were his own.

Never before in his life had he felt so _alive._ He thought that he had come close to feeling emotion in his later years in the human realm, but he had not even come close. Q marvelled at how complex his new brain was, how it turned the sensations he felt from his body into complex feelings.

He twisted his head slightly to see a blond mop of hair resting on the bed. One of his hands lay entwined within another’s, Q could feel the tightness of the other person’s grip against his palm as clear as day.

“James?”

The word was barely above a whisper, but the blond hair pulled sharply upwards to show the exhausted face of James Bond. His eyes were bloodshot with exhaustion, and dark bags made his face look much darker than it usually was, along with the gauze which covered a cut across his forehead.

“You’re awake,” James said, his free hand reaching up to cup Q’s face delicately. Q could hear the relief in James’ voice.

“Yeh,” Q said, with a small smile, gripping onto James’ hand. An explosion of _joy_ erupted through his new body, like the first sunrays bursting through the clouds after a rainstorm. Q felt a smile come unbidden over his face, unable to comprehend the pure _joy_ he felt.

“You alright?” James asked.

Q body was mortal now, decaying with every breath he took. Yet as Q gripped James’ hand tightly, drinking in the sight of his lover’s bright blue eyes and beautiful smile, he felt like he was on top of the world.

He was human, the same as James. No longer a child of two worlds, he had a home, he had his only love, and he was _alive._

 “I’ve never felt better,” he replied.

END.


End file.
